#maybe therapy will help if i can’t get a friend or something

[animazed]

and i can’t tell if you’re laughing

between each smile there’s a tear in your eye

there’s a train leaving town in an hour

it’s not waiting for you,

and neither am I

[pucksandpower]

Couples Therapy

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: let’s go to couples therapy and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other

You fidget nervously in the waiting room chair, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. This has to be the most ridiculous first date idea ever …but then again, Lando was never one for convention.

The office door swings open and a smiling middle-aged woman in a cardigan beckons you both inside. “Y/N? Lando? I’m Dr. Ramanujan, please come in.”

Lando shoots you a mischievous grin and you can’t help but return it as you follow the therapist into her office. This is already off to a delightfully silly start.

“So,” Dr. Ramanujan settles into her chair, notepad at the ready. “What brings you two in today?”

You open your mouth but Lando beats you to it. “Well doc, it’s like this — Y/N and I have been together for five years now but things have gotten … sticky, you might say.”

You fight back a surprised laugh at his casual lie. Five years? You met this lunatic ten days ago.

Nodding solemnly, you play along. “Yes, unfortunately some issues have arisen that we haven’t been able to resolve on our own.”

“I see,” the therapist jots something down. “And what would you say is the primary issue troubling your relationship?”

Lando strokes his chin in mock contemplation. “You know, now that I think about it, we really struggle with intimacy.”

You splutter, cheeks flushing red. He did not just go there on a first date!

“We’re very passionate people,” he continues effortlessly. “But I think we both have some hang-ups that stop us from really connecting, you know?”

Clearing your throat, you decide to steer into the skid. “Yes, you could say Lando is quite … insatiable in that area.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyebrows shoot up but she simply nods. “I see, I see. And how does that make you feel, Y/N?”

“Honestly?” You shrug helplessly. “Exhausted. The man is completely relentless — it’s like he’s an animal sometimes!”

Lando clutches his chest in feigned offense. “An animal? That’s a bit much, don’t you think darling?”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you snap, pushing aside your amusement at the increasingly absurd situation. “I’m just calling it like I see it. We’re here for honesty, right?”

“Touché,” Lando turns back to the therapist. “Doc, maybe you could help us find … a compromise of sorts? Because my needs are evidently not being met.”

You scoff loudly. “Not being met? Lando, I let you do that thing with the-”

Mercifully, Dr. Ramanujan interjects before you can continue that train of thought. “Perhaps we could steer our discussion in a more productive direction? Intimacy issues often stem from deeper underlying problems within a relationship. Is there anything else concerning you both?”

Lando ponders this for a moment before snapping his fingers. “You know what? I think a big part of it is that Y/N doesn’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you?” You echo incredulously. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I Flirt With My Teammate Constantly!“

His jaw drops perfectly. “You’re bringing Oscar into this? That’s a low blow, babe.”

“I’m not blind!” You shoot back, doing your best to ignore how silly you both must look. “I see how cozy you two get. Tell me there’s nothing there and I’m a fool!”

“Woah, woah!” Lando holds up his hands defensively. “Oscar and I are just good friends and teammates. Nothing more.”

You cross your arms stubbornly. “If you say so.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Dr. Ramanujan seems perplexed by your crazy banter.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Right. Well, it sounds like there are some potential trust issues at play here that we should unpack-”

“Oh I’ll unpack it for you, doc!” Lando interjects, real passion entering his voice now. “Y/N is massively, astronomically insecure about our relationship. She questions my faithfulness at every turn!”

You swivel to face him fully, eyes wide. “And why, pray tell, would I possibly be insecure about that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve never given you a single real reason to doubt me!”

“Except for all the pet names and inappropriate touching with Oscar!”

“Those are just friendly gestures!”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy!”

The two of you are practically shouting at each other now, completely absorbed in your make-believe argument. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a bit bad for putting the poor therapist through this, but you’re having far too much fun to stop.

Dr. Ramanujan finally cuts in, raising her palms. “Okay! Okay, let’s all just take a breath, shall we?”

You and Lando freeze mid-rant, remembering where you are. He shoots you a conspiratorial wink and you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile.

“Now,” the therapist continues once the tension has diffused slightly. “Clearly there are some deep-seated resentments and triggers being hit here that we need to unravel. But I think a lot of it comes back to the intimacy and trust issues we were discussing earlier. Y/N, would you say you feel emotionally fulfilled by Lando?”

You ponder this for a moment, drawing out the suspense. Lando watches you with bated breath.

Finally, you sigh deeply. “No doc, I can’t say that I do. And maybe that’s why I’ve been so tempted to stray myself ...”

Lando’s jaw drops perfectly again. “You’ve been tempted to cheat? With who?”

Holding his gaze boldly, you declare: “My yoga instructor, actually.”

“Shane?” He looks like you just slapped him. “But he’s so … so bland!”

You shrug nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract sometimes.”

Dr. Ramanujan looks like she’s watching a tennis match, unable to get a word in edgewise.

Lando points an accusatory finger at you. “This is unbelievable! You had the audacity to blame me for the intimacy issues earlier when all this time you’ve been lusting after another man?”

“I’m a woman of insatiable needs!” You cry, borrowing his phrasing from earlier. “You said it yourself!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He turns desperately back to the therapist. “Please doc, you have to help us!”

She blinks owlishly a few times before finding her voice. “I … I’m not sure I can be of much assistance here.”

Lando clutches at his chest dramatically. “No, don’t say that! Our relationship is hanging by a thread as it is.”

“If it’s even still a relationship,” you mumble darkly, inspecting your nails with affected nonchalance.

“You see?” Lando pleads with the doctor. “This is what I’m dealing with every day! The constant barbs and lack of trust! I’m at my wit’s end.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyes dart between the two of you, seeming to deflate a little more after each deranged declaration. She sets her notepad aside with a resigned sigh.

“Listen, you two ...” she begins carefully. “While I appreciate you being upfront about your ...” she pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “unique situation, I’m afraid it goes well beyond my abilities as a therapist.”

You simply blink at her innocently while Lando dissolves into feigned hysterics beside you.

“But you have to help us!” He cries, flinging himself backwards dramatically. “Our relationship is the only thing I have left!”

You can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics, quickly disguising it as a cough when the therapist shoots you a look. Dr. Ramanujan just shakes her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, but I clearly don’t have the tools or expertise to assist with … whatever this is.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “My advice would be to seek a different form of counseling. Or perhaps … separate for a while until you both figure out what you want.”

Lando clutches at his chest, feigning heartbreak. “Separate? Doc, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am,” Dr. Ramanujan states firmly, rising from her chair. “This session has become … unproductive, to put it mildly. I think we should call it a day.”

You open your mouth to protest staying in character, but the defeated look on the poor therapist’s face gives you pause. With a sidelong glance at Lando, you decide to put her out of her misery.

Rising from your own seat, you loop your arm through Lando’s and favor the bewildered doctor with your most winning smile.

“You’re probably right, doc. We’ll, uh, take some time and really think things over. Thanks for your … insight today.”

Dr. Ramanujan simply nods, seemingly too drained to even reply as she opens the door and gestures you both through.

The second you’re out in the hallway, you can’t contain your laughter anymore. You dissolve into a fit of giggles, doubling over and clutching at Lando’s arm for support. He joins in instantly, that mischievous grin stretched wide across his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasp between peals of laughter. “Did you see her face when I brought Oscar into it?”

“I thought she was going to kick us out then and there!” Lando howls, wiping away a mirthful tear. “The things we put that poor woman through ...”

You finally manage to regain your composure, still grinning madly at the ridiculousness of it all. Leave it to Lando to come up with a first date idea as wonderfully insane as fake couples therapy.

“We should do something normal for our next date,” you quip, shooting him a sly look. “Like go skydiving or swimming with sharks.”

Lando matches your playful tone, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meander away from the office. “Whatever you say, darling. Just promise me you won’t leave me for one of the skydiving instructors, yeah?”

You pull him closer with a laugh. “No promises, babe.”

[latin5mamii]

Angel - Jude Bellingham

|WARNINGS: nsfw (not too much you'll have to wait😉) Previous part |SUMMARY:How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything? |AUTHOR'S NOTE: Long chapter (I know you love me😌) enjoy!

“Girl he’s literally the love of your life, what’s wrong?”

YES, maybe you were overthinking on Jobe's warning. You know that he, being your best friend forever, has always been protective of you. If there had been something wrong he would have told you right away, right?

The first thing you did after Jude left was call your best friend, who was sure to attack you in any way possible. So now you find yourself talking about it with her, and she thinks you're stupid, obviously, but maybe you too start to think that you're a little paranoid.

“You're right, maybe? I don't know what to think either and I'm not even sure I realized what happened."

That kiss, God, couldn't get out of your head. You'd probably been waiting for this moment since middle school, yet you managed to ruin it from your thoughts. You try to practice one of the therapies to banish bad thoughts but it obviously doesn't work.

“Y/N, let me be honest with you: just trust Jude, you know your bond is very strong and I think he wouldn't have kissed you if he didn't want to”

But that's not what you meant, unfortunately. It's obvious that if he hadn't wanted to kiss you he wouldn't have even stayed at your house to sleep, because let's face it, you both knew what would happen. What if he didn't have to leave? You know very well what would happen after that kiss. You didn't even want to confront Jude because you didn't want him to think that you don't trust him. He said he would write to you as soon as possible. Maybe you have nothing left but to trust him. Ok that you study psychology , but not everyone is definitely crazy or plotting behind your back. And anyway you had other things to think about: You probably didn't forget that he invited you to one of his games, right?

"He also invited me to one of his matches, the one in two weeks, I think"

You can hear your friend gasp in amazement, you can hear an envious but playful tone in her voice.

"Are you fucking serious? Lucky you!"

The day continued in a calm, but boring way. You were waiting for a message from him, that's the truth.

 You even thought about sending him a message, but would you seriously have done it? So you tried to distract yourself: reading, studying , trying to do anything not to think about him, about that kiss and the way he could make you feel butterflies in your stomach at any moment. 

(Seriously, could you stop thinking about him for just one minute? It’s like he’s the only thing on your mind. Oh wait, he probably is.)

The moment you finally stopped thinking about it (Or at least you think) your phone buzzed, and you, as if you've been waiting for years, take it right away, and when you read Jude's name on the screen, you can't help but smile and your heart skips a beat.

Jude: Hey Angel, hope your day was as good as mine. I can't stop thinking about you. Lunch was a drag without you.

You couldn't help but smile as you typed back.

You: Hey, lunch was boring here too. I missed you.

(You missed him? It’s only been a few hours. But hey, who am I to judge?)

A few moments later, your phone buzzed again.

Jude: Let’s make up for it then. Are you free tonight?

Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again so soon.

You: Definitely. What do you have in mind?

Jude: How about we take a trip to the lake? We can have a picnic and watch the sunset.

You:You always know how to make me smile, what time?

Okay, maybe this message was a bit stupid, but as soon as he replies, you can see that this message was appreciated.

Jude:Built for this, ain’t I? I’ll come pick you up at 6?

You: I can’t wait

Jude:See you soon then, Angel.

You spent the next few hours getting ready, packing a small bag with everything you might need for the lake. The excitement built with each passing minute, your heart racing at the thought of spending the evening with Jude.

As the clock neared 6, you were ready and waiting. Jude arrived right on time, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

"Beautiful?" You say with a slightly embarrassed tone as you rest your head on his chest.

"I can't deny it" An embarrassed smile appears on your face.

The car ride was pretty quiet, but also stressful because of all those awkward silences that happened because of what happened earlier at your house.

When you got to the lake, you settled on a towel and he started staring at you again, not that you didn't like it.

Jude’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Ready for a swim?” he asked, his voice dripping with playfulness.

“Absolutely,” you replied, slipping off your shoes and heading towards the water. Jude followed close behind, his gaze never leaving you.

Once in the lake, you splashed him playfully, laughing as he blinked in surprise. “Oh, it’s on now,” he said, closing the distance between you with a few swift strokes.

Before you could react, he scooped you up, water dripping from both of you. “Put me down!” you protested, giggling.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. He twirled you around before gently setting you back in the water, his hands lingering on your waist.

“Alright, alright, you win,” you said, breathless from laughter.

He grinned, his eyes locking onto yours. “I always do.”

His fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin under the water, sending shivers up your spine.

“Jude…” you began, but his name on your lips seemed to ignite something in him. His gaze darkened with desire as he moved even closer, his breath hot against your neck.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. The kiss was searing, his hands gripping your waist tightly as if he never wanted to let go. You responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer.

The water lapped around you as the kiss deepened, growing more passionate by the second. Jude’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you against him as if he couldn’t get enough. You felt his heart pounding against your chest, matching the frantic beat of your own.

You broke the kiss for a brief moment, gasping for air. But the second you met his eyes, filled with an intensity that took your breath away, you were drawn back together. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself to him.

"We gotta pick up where we left off this morning, yeah?" he groaned against your lips, his voice rough with need.

You nodded quickly and in an instant his lips were on your neck, leaving significant marks. You let a soft moan from your lips and you know that this is driving him even more crazy. His lips are now on your lips again, in a kiss with hunger. You have been waiting for this moment for a long time, and it has finally arrived.

The feel of his skin against yours, the taste of his lips, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the universe,it was intoxicating.

Jude’s hands moved up and down your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you, as if he couldn’t get enough. You matched his intensity, your own hands tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you finally pulled back, both of you breathless and flushed. Jude rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath.

You both stayed there for a moment, just holding each other, the water gently rocking you. When you finally made your way back to the towel, he started talking to you.

"My mom... she’s been asking about you. She wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night. She misses you,a lot."

Your heart warmed at the thought. Jude's family had always been like a second family to you, and the invitation really warmed your heart, "I'd love to come," you replied, smiling.

“She’ll be happy to hear that”

He said, caressing your cheek. “Anyway, there's one more thing I wanted to ask you.” A sense of anxiety made you laugh nervously. He looked slightly more serious.

"I have to go back to Madrid the day after tomorrow," After a short pause, he continues, "And I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to come with me."

Now you are sure of the fact that most likely, at this request, your eyes widened and perhaps, your heart might have missed more than a beat. Did it mean that you would sleep together every night? Did it mean that perhaps you were his girlfriend? A question now kept bombarding your head: What are you two?

A couple? Best friends who have gone too far? You don't know how long you've been staring at him without giving him a response, but just the thought of actually staring at him shocked embarrasses you so much that it makes you want to disappear.

"I mean, I want to" You are still slightly shocked by the proposal and can't form a sensible sentence.

Jude starts chuckling at your form of communication.

"You want to? Okay, that's a good start"

"But I'll let you know tomorrow for sure, okay?"

"It's more than okay, angel"

After spending a little more time at the lake, enjoying the sunset and each other’s company, you and Jude eventually packed up and headed back to his car. The drive back was filled with comfortable silence and soft music, your hand resting in his, little stolen glances that made you giggle, is this what it feels like when you're in love?When you reached your house, Jude walked you to your door, his arm draped around your shoulders. As you turned to face him, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling under the porch light.

“Goodnight, Jude,” you replied softly, your heart full as you watched him walk back to his car.

A smile played on your lips and you couldn’t be more excited for what was about to come. You giggled all the way to your apartment and as soon as you got in you flopped onto the bed, stomping your feet excitedly. How can I blame you? You've been waiting for this your whole life.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 24)

Part 23

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“Lean your head back, so I can rinse.” Y/N instructs Katniss, gently.

It’s been two weeks back in twelve. The Abernathy family, Katniss, Cashmere and Johanna. Peeta had to stay behind, not quite ready to be exposed to all the potential triggers of home.

Cashmere and Madge had no problem cozying up in the Abernathy home. However Katniss keeps to her own house in Victor’s Village and Johanna has agreed to stay in the house gifted to Y/N after her win. Finnick and Annie will visit too, of course. After the baby.

The girl on fire sits in the tub, knees pulled up to her chest, with both arms around them, as her former mentor washes her hair. Katniss can’t bring herself to do much these days. Rotting away on the couch, after Prim… But Y/N is nothing if not stubborn and loves Katniss more than her own mother ever could.

When Y/N is finished, she leaves Katniss to dry off. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Katniss blinks at her, nodding. She does not speak.

Y/N returns to her own home, bustling with life. Nothing here is still. The victor dances past her oldest daughter, twirling about the living room to music. Moving carefully behind the house of cards that Everest and Cashmere are building on the dining table and into the kitchen.

Haymitch follows her there, Daisy in his arms. He hardly puts her down. “How is she?” Katniss.

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You should go see her, Haymitch. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?”

“Because you understand each other.” Y/N says, “I love her, she knows I do. But it’s not the same. She needs you.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Haymitch frowns, “if it sets her off? Makes it worse?”

“The last thing Katniss needs right now, is to feel like another person has abandoned her.” Like her mother. Like Gale. “Especially you. You don’t have to say anything, just be there.” Y/N wrings her hands, anxiously. “Please.”

Haymitch shakes his head, bouncing between feet, when Daisy begins to fuss. “The things I do for you.”

Y/N half smiles, “gimme the baby.”

At this he hesitates. It is hard enough being in a separate room from his children. Or not to holler in protest, each time Y/N moves out of his sight.

“Haymitch?” Y/N rests a hand against his back.

It’s not you, it’s me. “Here.” He forces a smile, passing off their child.

“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N wonders, adjusting the infant in her arms.

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, “it’s nothing.”

“But-”

“I love you.” Haymitch tells his wife, pecking a kiss to her lips, “nothing’s wrong.”

Y/N pulls back, slightly, studying him. “I love you too.”

He pats her cheek, in parting. Hurrying out the door, before Y/N can get a word in.

“You guys are disgusting.” Johanna remarks, leaning heavily against the refrigerator.

Y/N murmurs. “Yeah.”

“I’m out of eggs.” Johanna adds, to explain her presence.

“We have plenty. Help yourself.” Y/N waves toward the fridge.

“There’s something wrong with him.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do about it? You’re Mrs. Fix It. That’s why we’re all here. So you can fix us.” Johanna scoffs, “you can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can,” Y/N cuts her off. “I will.”

“You think I haven’t noticed there’s a room you can’t even go in?” Johanna continues.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I think you’re afraid of old hunks of metal that used to record you getting your rocks off.” Johanna crosses both arms over her chest. “They can’t hurt you.”

“They can hurt me.” Y/N purses her lips, “they did.”

“You should get rid of them.” Johanna suggests.

“I can’t.” I just can’t.

“My head doctor would call it ‘exposure therapy.’”

“Will you help me?”

Johanna huffs a laugh. “What are friends for?”

————————————————————————

That night, after the children are fast asleep, Y/N tosses and turns in bed.

“Just say it.” Haymitch snaps.

“It’s nothing.” Y/N whispers, “I’m sorry.” She turns away from Haymitch, nuzzling her back against his chest, until he has no choice but to wrap his arms around her.

“Angel,” Haymitch pauses, trying to find the right words. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Been free.” Haymitch confesses, “not since the games, never as an adult. Never as a husband or a father; and I am terrified that at any moment, all of this is going to be taken away from me.”

Y/N squeezes his hand, a bit tighter. “Sometimes I think that too.” We’ve been playing the game too long. “Do you think we’ll get used to it? Being free?”

Haymitch sighs, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “I hope so, angel.”

This is new. Haymitch having hope. “Me too.”

————————————————————————

Nights bleed into days. Days into weeks.

Daisy naps contently, in the sling against Y/N’s chest, while she tidies the kitchen.

Everest and Haymitch have set out to pluck weeds from the pathway between houses of Victor’s Village.

Arista is playing in the backyard.

The birds chirp.

The sun shines.

Then Arista screams. “Mommy!”

Y/N abandons the pan she is washing, into the sink, water still running, as she races toward the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Arista!”

“Mommy! Daddy! Hurry!”

Haymitch and Everest rush toward her cry. “Arista!”

Y/N finds her first, at the far edge of their yard, hunched over a mass of white feathers. “Arista? Are you ok?”

“He came back.” Arista tells her mother, with overjoyed tears in her eyes. “Louie came back.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N chokes down the panic that has risen in her throat. “That’s wonderful.”

Everest comes to a stop beside his mother, panting as he takes in the scene before him. “She’s ok?”

“Yeah,” Y/N reaches a hand over, to ruffle his hair. “We’re all ok now.”

Haymitch joins them last, out of breath, face flushed. “Is everything-”

Y/N turns to him, with a grin. “Louie came home.”

“It’s just the goose.” Haymitch can’t help but laugh. “Just the god damn goose.”

————————————————————————

That night, at dinner, with Madge, Cashmere, Johanna and even Katniss, the phone rings. The sound of it still jarring, after being without a form of easy communication between districts for so long.

Maybe it’s Annie and Finnick.

Maybe there is news in the Capitol.

Maybe Effie.

“I’ll get it.” Johanna volunteers.

Y/N holds up a hand, not wanting to speak with a mouthful of food.

“Or not.”

“I’ve got it.” Y/N excuses herself from the table, into the hallway. Lifting the phone from the receiver to her ear; heart pounding. “Hello.”

“Y/N, it’s me.”

Her free hand comes up to her heart, attempting to quiet the ache. “Peeta, hi. How are you?”

“Better, I’m good.”

“That’s good, honey.” Y/N blinks back tears. “That’s so good to hear.”

“Dr. Aurelius says I’m free to leave the hospital, as long as I keep up with sessions over the phone.” He sounds nervous, like the other shoe is about to drop.

Maybe he’s staying with Effie in the Capitol.

“The train leaves tomorrow morning.”

“Can I- I’ll come get you from the train station?”

“Yes.” Peeta says, immediately. “That would be great.”

“Ok,” Y/N breathes, “that’s perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog @thatkindofgurl @solikeapparently @innercreationflower @nicksolemnlyswears @a-sweet-little-fangirl @champomiel @kate654 @maladptivedreamer @rainbow12346 @gabwitch99-blog @theseerbetweenus @qvnthesia @prettybiching @izziebreeziel @anneliese500 @scoliobean @mariechristine00 @hoslunix @frstlght @winter-jensen

[spenceragnewfics]

spencer and reader fake wedding on tntl

I hope you enjoy! This also helped me write something I wanted to featuring Court's birthday TNTL!

WEDDING BELLS?! | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

TW: Cuteness is all I can think of.

Word Count: 1.3k

Description: Filming a birthday TNTL is always special, especially when Y/N and Spencer can do a joke poking at their best friends. 

Try Not To Laugh is one of Smosh’s biggest series that the channel does. It’s one of Y/N’s favorites to film because it’s never the same, every episode is different and fun to film. As one of the newest cast members, Y/N was still nervous to film the show but today was going to be different because her boyfriend Spencer was filming the episode as well. It was a very special one because it’s for Courtney’s birthday.

Sitting on one of the stools, she’s scrolling through her phone when she feels arms wrap around her from behind. Her face lights up when she sees the familiar tattoos and smells the ever familiar cologne, “Hey, Spence. Whatcha doin?” She asks, leaning her head back onto his shoulder.

“Just seeing what my beautiful girlfriend is doing.” He says, rubbing her arms as she smiles at him. “Well, I’m just waiting for my amazing boyfriend but I can’t see to find him. Have you seen him?” He rolls his eyes as she laughs, he playfully frowns before walking away with his head down. “No, no, babe. I’m sorry. Come back.” She gets off the stool and follows him. She hugs him from behind when he stops, resting her head on his shoulder, “You’re so mean to me.” He says, faking to be sad but she doesn’t know that.

“I’m sorry baby, I was just joking.” He turns around with a big smile on his face, “I know, I was messing with you.” She huffs as he pulls her into his arms. “Okay, you two are sickeningly cute. We get it.” Angela says as she walks on set. “Awe, Ang, I can help you find someone.” Y/N suggests, “Nah, I’m okay. This is plenty for me for now.” The two women smile at each other before more people start to come in.

It’s not much longer until everyone is on set that needs to be there so they can start shooting. Y/N stands between Courtney and Spencer to do the intro, “Woohoo. It’s Courtney’s birthday!” Ian says as the entire cast and crew cheer for them.

“So we, we have a very special try not to laugh today. We have so many people, including maybe some surprises.” Ian continues, making a silly voice towards the end. Courtney laughs then mocks him before he continues, “It’s gonna be a big one. Courtney, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling extremely nervous, I haven’t seen any of you all day until literally two minutes ago. So it’s, we’re doing like shock therapy. Here we go! We’re going in, we’re diving in!.” They say, their nerves slightly showing. “All right, let’s dive in guys, let’s go!” Ian says as everyone cheers then moves around. 

The first four on the stools are Shayne, Courtney, Y/N, and Spencer. Amanda starts it off, doing a very good security guard impression and everyone is able to hold their water in until someone dressed as Freddy Fazbear pops out. Y/N screams when she sees it, spitting out her water while Courtney spits out theirs from laughing. Shayne and Spencer spit their water out a second later.

It turns out that Trevor is in the Freddy suit which makes Y/N surprised. “I would’ve never guessed it was Trev. Honestly.” She says, laughing as Trevor talks about how he can’t see anything.

Ian goes next, using a speaker to play some sound effects. Courtney, Y/N and Spencer laughed and then suddenly it’s Ian reading straight from Twilight. Y/N grips Spencer’s arm as she starts laughing even more, “I can’t, I can’t” She says breathless as she holds onto him for support.

Next is Olivia, who makes everyone laugh with her gagging and farting before she comes out as Boneless. She gives Courtney two paintings she did before leaving.

Erin D walks out dressed as Gerald Cakes and does a little and turns before saying “I’m on my way.” Making all four spit out their water as she twerks. 

Damien is next and Tommy walks out first. The four wait until Damien walks out dressed like Baron Harkonnen, he doesn’t even get to do anything as Y/N already spits out her water from laughing. The bit gets better as it goes on, everyone spits out their water before it’s over.

Vida comes out next with a ukulele. “There’s nowhere to- actually. There’s a lot of places to masterbate when you’re at Smosh.” She sings, making everyone shocked. Courtney covers their mouth while Shayne turns away. Y/N and Spencer look at the crew shocked while she grabs his hand.

“Just don’t tell my boss.” Vida sings, Shyne spits out his water almost immediately. “And as my gift for you, I’ll share a few.” Y/N squeezes Spencer’s hand, getting ready for whatever is about to happen.

“So the crying bathroom’s obvious and the voice over booth.” Courtney spits out her water at the one. “You can use Ian’s office, just make sure Ian’s through.” Spencer lets the water out of his mouth, shocked that this is going on. Y/N remains the only one with water in her mouth.

“On the games stage, you can master your moose.” Y/N spits out her water at that as Spencer quickly shakes his head. “Dear god, please no!” She begs looking at the camera. Vida soon ends her song to applause as everyone laughs, shocked at the whole thing.

Brett Miller, comes out and sings Court happy birthday as Marylin Monroe. The final one before they switch out is Bailey. Emily gives the all clear and the four wait, she doesn’t walk out from behind the divider.

“So, guys, do you have any plans after this?” Bailey’s voice asks from behind and they look to see her dressed as Bystander. They all spit out their water as Y/N and Courtney scream.

Angela runs out screaming, “He won’t leave me alone.” The two do the bystander bit and after it’s time to switch out.

Y/N, Shayne, and Spencer walk behind the divider as Ian and Olivia sit with Court. “So, Spence, I think we should do our bit together.” She suggests, looking at her boyfriend excited. “What do you have in mind? You look very mischievous.” He asks, a little nervous.

She whispers the plan in his ear, making him smirk as the plan is genius. “Ooo, Tommy! Come here!” Y/N says, pulling the man in and she fills him in on the plan.

A few minutes later it’s Spencer and Y/N’s turn. Tommy walks out first, a bow tie around his neck and book in hand. Courtney looks at him confused until Y/N walks out in a white outfit with a veil on her head. Spencer then walks out with a tie around his neck, the crew screams in excitement as they try to see if what’s about to happen, happens.

“Dearly beloved cast and crew, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of the Courtney wannabe and Shayne wannabe.” Courtney spits out their water as they laugh. “Do you take each other to be wedded husband and wife?” Tommy asks, “I do.” Spencer and Y/N say in unison.

“By the power vested in me and the state of Smosh. You are officially copycats!” He declares as Spencer dips Y/N and kisses her. The cast and crew cheer as they stand up straight. “We really aren't’ going to beat the rumors now huh?” Y/N jokes and Spencer shrugs before they walk back behind the divider.

Once the two are behind it, they start laughing as he pulls her into his arms. “Maybe that’ll be real one day.” She looks at him with a raised brow, “Maybe? I was hoping for definitely.” He chuckles before kissing her cheek.

[the-witchhunter]

I’ve had an interesting thought swimming around my head that I swear I’ve been meaning to write

You know what would be an interesting combination of characters?

Jazz and Harvey Dent/TwoFace

Specifically a Dent just getting back on his feet, released from Arkham and trying to learn how to exist in the world with his condition

I’m thinking a reveal gone wrong, Danny has disappeared to ancients know where, so Jazz cuts ties and Stays with her Uncle Dent, or maybe her bio dad if that’s more your game. Just an soaking wet and miserable Jazz showing up at his crappy apartment saying she’s his daughter or niece and him resisting the urge to flip a coin because he has enough on his plate as is, only to let her in telling her they’ll talk about it in the morning and point her to the shower so she can clean up and dry off

Why do I think this would be an interesting combo?

Jazz’s interest in psychology. A lot of times, as a fandom we depict her as an expert, and in a future timeline where she went to school and has been practicing psychology maybe, but default Jazz? She’s not an expert

Jazz wants to be a brain surgeon, psychology is an interest of hers but her understanding is very limited. She quotes Freud and Jung and has some amount of academic knowledge of the field, but she clearly doesn’t understand that psychoanalyzing friends and family and offering unwanted psychiatric advice is actually rude and something she shouldn’t do. She lacks understanding of actual therapy and is clumsy in applying her knowledge to people she knows

And I find putting her in proximity of someone with DID and probably PTSD would really be an eye opening experience for her

Because Dent might humor her, TwoFace will call her out. They both have hung around Harley to know enough to tell her, “maybe don’t take Freud so seriously” because man does everything go back to sex with Freud, and maybe quoting a guy that says she wants to boink her dad is not as strong of a point as she thinks it is

And the thing is, Harvey would likely still be receiving therapy as an outpatient, potentially taking meds to help deal with his conditions, likely a mood stabilizer or anxiety med to manage PTSD symptoms, so she’s front seat of him learning to live as a regular person in Gotham with his condition. She’s gonna see his good days, his bad days, the side effects of his medication, and it’s going to change her idea of what psychology is. It’s not just quoting things at people, it’s not just saying “this is good for people” but she’d see what it being put into practice would look like

Maybe that’ll push her away from the subject. Maybe it’ll make her more inclined to study, to learn not just about it as an abstract but how to actually apply it to help people. Learning about actual therapy practices. Maybe living first hand with mental illness would be the push to switch from neurosurgery to clinical psychology in her future plans

Also I just think that Dent would be empathetic and do what he could to help her, meanwhile TwoFace would help her cut loose a little, get a little chaotic and have some fun

You can’t tell me there’s not something fun about her and “Uncle Two-y” having a night on the town that only results in a little property damage. Relax Harv, they didn’t do anything too illegal, because they didn’t get caught or nothing

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

Rain Therapy | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: The line between friends and lovers is impossibly thin, yet somehow the hardest line to cross. It's a line that you and Bucky just can't seem to break, but it's nothing one of Tony's infamous parties can't fix.

A/N: Another fluffy one for me, which is still something I'm growing used to writing. I'm getting anxious for some angst, so ask me for some and I'll see what I can do!

Warnings: two idiots in love, slight angst, tooth-rotting fluff, language, allusions to smutty content, jealous Bucky

Word Count: 7,206

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

The whisper of lightning, the promise of thunder, the answer of rain. The sky darkens and the sun is forgotten, casting a gloomy light on the earth below.

And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, I find it to be a chemical mixture for peace.

“Y/N, Y/N what the hell are you doing out there?”

That illusion of peace shatters, and I let out low groan, keeping my eyes shut as the raindrops fall down on my form outstretched on the pavement.

“I was having a peaceful moment of bliss until someone decided now was an opportune time to bother me,” I call back.

“An opportune time to-” I hear him cut off incredulously, muttering something to himself as heavy, booted feet slosh through the rain to reach me, “Get off the damn driveway, doll. You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” I respond, staying pleasantly where I lay right in front of the Avengers Compound.

“Myth my ass, now get up and inside before I throw you over my shoulder and do it for you.”

I click my tongue, not having to open my eyes to know my best friend is standing right beside me, “So much violence, so much language. You should join me, some inner peace would do you good.”

Thunder cracks above, rumbling through the earth and into my bones. Even though I don’t hear his steps moving away, Bucky goes silent beside me. I begin to think he’s taking me up on my offer of a little rain therapy.

“See,” I sigh into the cacophony of nature, “Isn’t that peaceful? Maybe-”

I don’t even have time to react when a pair of strong arms, one of them freezing cold due to the metal in the rain, grab my waist and lift me clear off the floor. My eyes snap open with a jolt as I see myself being thrown over Bucky’s shoulder just like he promised.

“What the-” I stop myself as he secures me with his arm dangerously near my ass and slap his broad, muscular back, “You little bitch!”

“A little bitch who’s gonna keep you from getting a cold,” Bucky responds, and I can hear the smugness in his tone from back here, “Is the rain still peaceful?”

“No, there’s a jackass who got in the way.”

I feel his body rumble with laughter, feel the noise pass through my body and make my heart tumble in its cage. With that, his arm edging near a zone that’s clearly more than friends, and the sight of his wet t-shirt stuck to his back, I feel the anger flood from my body. Instead, I find myself thinking about what his abs look like with his rain-soaked shirt pressed against them.

Damn it, I’ve really got it bad.

I try my hardest to shove the image from my mind, but it only sticks harder and makes the spot where Bucky’s hand rests burn. I notice his metal hand on the other side, rain dripping off of it, and I can’t help but let my mind trace to-

I halt my thinking abruptly. He’s your best friend, he’s your best friend, he’s your best friend.

He’s my unfairly hot, broody, and annoyingly heart-fluttering best friend

With his free hand, Bucky shoves open the front doors to the Avenger’s Compound, walking a few steps until we enter one of the large, high-ceiling living areas where a television blasts a movie.

“I told you,” Tony announces after the group of my friends and teammates sees Bucky walking in with me on his shoulder, “Sam, you owe me five bucks.”

“Put me down, terminator,” I grunt, to which Bucky finally sets me on my feet.

Immediately I go to hit him, but the sudden change in my body’s gravity sends me off balance slightly. I stumble back slightly, trying to make the blood rush from my head so I can balance again.

“Woah, careful there, Bambi,” Bucky laughs, gripping onto my waist to help steady me.

Where his hands touch, metal and skin alike, my skin sets on fire. The radiating electricity from his touch only annoys me further and I shove out of his hands, swatting his chest.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze and holding a finger in his face like a scolding parent, “Next time you manhandle me, I’m going to remove your arm like Ayo showed me.”

Bucky smirks at me coolly and says something, but I miss it because my eyes drop down to where his t-shirt sticks to his abs from the rain. Just like I imagined it would, it makes my mouth go dry and my heartbeat miss a step.

“See something you like?” Bucky taunts.

Cheeks flushed, I look up at him calmly and smile, “Just thinking about what a shame a body like that is wasted on the grumpiest man alive.”

The group of Avengers lounging around the various chairs and couches in the living room snicker, their attention drawn from the television. He lifts an eyebrow at me and those infuriating steel blue eyes ricochet my pulse.

“Sure you were.”

“Whatever,” I mumble, turning and looking at team, “Who bet against me?”

Tony, Bruce, Wanda, and Nat lifts their hands and I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in feigned hurt.

“Traitors,” I grumble, not being able to stop the smile that wants to twitch onto my lips as Bucky walks up beside me and rests his arm on my shoulder.

“They bet right, didn’t they?”

I look up at him with the half-smile I wasn’t able to stop, “Screw you,”

I turn around and leave the living room, making my way towards my room so I can shower and change. From behind me, I hear Bucky’s laugh that sears itself into my memory.

“Love you too, doll!” He calls out, and my heart launches into my throat.

He doesn’t mean it like I want him to, not like how I mean it. Not like how I've meant it for months.

As I finally get to the confines of my bedroom, I shut to the door and let out a trembling breath. I keep my back pressed to the door for a moment, leaning my head against it and forcing myself to forget the way his hands felt, to strike from my memory the beauty of his laugh. When I finally peel off my wet clothes and step into a scalding hot shower, I let the water and steam surround me long after I'm already clean.

I'm a coward, a coward and a fool for falling for my best friend and not being able to say a word to him about it.

Long after I'm out of the shower and cuddled up with a book on my bed, a knock sounds on my door. I've barely glanced up at it in confusion when Natasha's voice calls out, "I know you're probably reading a book but put it down and let me in unless you want me to break down the door."

A half-smile tugs onto my lips and I set my book aside, untangling myself from my covers and opening the door for my friend. She gives me a smug smile and waltzes in, plopping down on my bed. I can't help but shake my head at her as she makes herself at home.

"Why are all of my friends so violent?" I taunt, sitting down next to her.

"Most of us are trained assassins." Nat gives me a playful nudge, already lifting my spirits from the gloom and doom they were resting in. Her knowing gaze immediately notifies me that I can't escape the conversation to come, so I don't even bother to skirt around it.

"Why does my life suck?" I groan, dropping down onto my back dramatically. Nat laughs beside me, shaking her head down at me.

"So many questions tonight," She remarks, following the words with a tired sigh and laying down beside me. As we both stare up at my ceiling, my mind is held captive by one person. Both it and my heart have been held hostage and I'm starting to understand the truth in Stockholm Syndrome.

"You know, and brace yourself because this is gonna blow your mind, you could just tell him how you feel," Nat advises.

"And risk ruining everything that we already have?" I reply, my brows creased in an ever-present state of worry, "I could live with being friends with him forever as long as it meant I still had him in my life. But if I tell him how I feel and it changes everything to the point where he can't even be around me?"

I take a charged pause, startled by the sudden rise of emotion. I swallow down the burning pain, but ultimately I decide to go easy on my breaking heart. The poor thing doesn't know any better. All it knows is that it wants Bucky Barnes and I keep locking it and its desires into a cage of bones in my chest.

"A life without him...I couldn't live like that."

Nat sits up beside me, catching my attention in time to see the sympathy flashing across her features, "Y/N, I know it's scary but if you'd just trust me I think the outcome would surprise you."

She can tell that I'm still not convinced, so in a last ditch effort to rally me from my slumber of inaction, she reaches across me and grabs the book I was reading. I sit up, a protest just starting on my tongue as I reach for it. She pulls it out of my reach and holds it in front of her chest, displaying the cover for me to see.

"Do any of the characters in these books ever fare well from denying their passions?" Nat asks, and I find that she has me in a figurative corner, "Do their stories end well when they decide, 'Nah, I'm too scared to tell him I love him'?"

"I don't love him," I protest, but the lie is sour on my tongue and allergic to my soul. It gets rejected so quickly by everything within me that I almost think I'll have a physical reaction to it.

"Bullshit." Nat challenges, setting the book aside and grabbing my hands. I shake my head, trying to escape her arguments that my heart jumps in agreement with.

It's a brutal thing, to have your heart yearn for one thing and your mind so resolutely against it. I've always thought it strange how the dichotomy of desires could root in a person, but it makes sense in a way. The heart is led by our passions, our intuitive cravings. The mind is hardwired by nature and instinct to protect us, to propel our survivals.

Even if that means our passions must be slaughtered.

I'm keeping my mind in charge by sheer will that's hanging precariously over the edge of a cliff. My will only has a few fingers left to hold with, and I can feel it slipping every day Bucky's near me, every time his skin brushes mine, every time he simply is.

“I need to move on,” I almost desperately announce, gripping handfuls of my sweatshirt to keep from crying, “I need a way to move or this is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.”

Sympathetic to my distress, Natasha lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You know, with Tony’s Semi-Annual Charity Gala coming up this weekend it’s the perfect time to move on.”

I perk up slightly, the thought breaking a sliver of hope in the pit of despair and self-pity I allow to well up. For an Avenger, I sure know how to wallow in pain.

“…or make a move on a certain super soldier.” Nat continues.

“Don’t be silly, I’d never steal Steve away from you,” I jest, my tone wavering but stronger than before. Nat rolls her eyes from beside me before shoving my shoulder. With a sigh, I finally meet my friend’s gaze, “One last chance. One chance and then I’m putting myself out of my misery”

That’s so easily said. The unspoken truth is that my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. It hasn’t for a long time.

“Great!” Nat smiles, squeezing me into a side hug on the bed, “I’ll start planning your outfit now!”

And with that, she’s off my bed and into my closet. As we spend the better part of the night deciding on what to wear to the upcoming gala, I can’t help but let my mind stray to its usual focus. With a groan of exhaustion, I drop my head into my hands and tell myself that same lie.

“He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

It’s getting harder and harder to believe.

|||

A few days later

It's been a few days since the rain incident, and I've finally managed to garner a moment alone from everyone. It's not that I don't love being around them, but it taxes me more than I care to admit to be around him.

A forlorn sigh brushes past my lips, but as I nestle down on the floor in the library Tony had put into the Compound, I find my worries drifting away. Instead, they're replaced with the story in the pages, rapturing my attention and distracting my mind.

That is, until the door opens and I feel his presence before I see or hear him.

"There you are, doll. I've been looking for you all day," Bucky calls, his deep, smooth voice cascading into my very soul. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying desperately to not let it show on my face how jarring it was to be snapped from the book to the person I've been trying to avoid.

"You've been looking for me?" I ask, managing to make my voice seem calm and pleasant. He approaches where I'm sitting on the floor, a breath-stealing smile tugging at his lips.

"Course I have, I haven't seen you in days," He replies, his face the picture of relaxed calm, drawing a fierce dichotomy to the barely-veiled confliction on my own. Bucky takes a moment, surveying me sitting on the floor amidst all of the chairs and couches available. He lifts an amused brow at me.

"Why are you on the floor?"

I can't stop myself from smiling up at him and all control I had in keeping myself away from him disintegrates, "It's more comfortable to me. Are you judging me Barnes?"

His laugh bursts light into the depths of me, and as I watch his face relax I can't help but look on in awe at how far he's come. When he first joined the team, he was withdrawn and quiet and even grumpier than he is now. He never smiled, never laughed, and barely spoke. Now, of course he's adorably grumpy most of the time, but he smiles and laughs. He enjoys life, and he more than anyone else in this world deserves to enjoy life.

"What're you reading?" Bucky asks, and I try to ignore the way my pulse rockets up when he settles down beside me on the floor.

He stretches out his long legs, keeping the one furthest from me bent and resting his arm on top it. His other leg is stretched out and nearly touching my own. To help balance his weight, he settles the hand closest to me, his metal hand, onto a spot on the floor behind my back. The position makes his chest brush against my shoulder ever so slightly and all I can feel is the burning of his presence and the searing of his gaze.

"Just some fantasy book," I reply, not wanting to bore him.

I look over at him to see his eyes already on my face, his own radiating a serene peace. He furrows his brows at my prolonged examination of his features and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just," My mouth has gone dry again, and I can't seem to clear the haze on my mind, "You look at peace."

"Well someone pretty incredible suggested rain therapy, which works like a charm for my grumpiness."

A laugh bubbles out of me, only widening the smile on his face. I find myself subconsciously leaning into his presence and bringing our faces closer.

"Seriously," Bucky continues, making me realize our proximity and pull back to a normal distance, "I'm always at peace around you."

My heart doesn't just miss a step, it stumbles and falls and nearly gives out in my chest. His words affect every part of me and it's a feat of pure resilience that I don't reach over and press my lips to his.

"Unless you're doing something stupid and testing my nerves," He adds on, lightening the air and making me giggle. He nods towards the almost forgotten book in my hands.

"You were going to tell me about your new read," Bucky reminds, and I smile.

I spend the next ten minutes detailing what's happening in the book, my excitement about it taking over and making me ramble on without barely taking any breaths. I occasionally look between the book and Bucky, sometimes gesturing with my hands to establish my enthusiasm.

Even when I'm not looking at him, Bucky's gaze never leaves my face.

So much for giving myself space to try and move on from him. That thought is far from my mind, though. The longer I’m near him, the closer he is, the harder it is to remember to forget him. And now, with Tony’s Gala tomorrow night, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.

Maybe I really can give this one last shot. It could break me if it goes wrong, but I have a feeling I’ll break a little regardless.

|||

The next night

Not even the pounding of the music and the chatter and clatter of hundreds of guests can drown out my racing mind.

“Stop tugging at your dress, you look great,” Natasha chides from beside me.

With a huff of anxiety, I heed her words and stop fiddling with the snug material of the one-sleeved dress. It hugs my curves down to my waist before draping elegantly to the floor, broken only by the high slit up the thigh.

“I know,” I reply, downing my second drink of the night and setting down the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a brief smile, “I just haven’t seen him yet. He’s coming right? Tony told us all to be here, so he wouldn’t just-”

“Why does there have to be so many people here?”

My words die out at the distant but unmissable rumble of words behind me. I turn around, and my entire world seems to focus on the epicenter that is Bucky Barnes as he walks in beside Sam Wilson.

“It’s a party man, I thought you loved parties back in the day,” Sam replies, smiling at a few people as he walks in.

“Yeah well I don’t like people like I did then,” Bucky grumbles back, messing with the edges of his all-black suit that is tailored so perfectly that it hones every inch of his body.

His broad shoulders, his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes in a fierce dichotomy with the darkness of the getup…I almost trip in my heels.

“You don’t like any people? That breaks my heart, Barnes,” I manage out coolly, walking up to the pair with a half-smile tugging on my lips and my heart dancing with the butterflies within.

Bucky’s gaze turns from the party goers to where I walk up to them, and a part of me melts at the way a light filters into his features. His dashing smile makes my own grow before I can stop it. The way he simply stops for a moment and stares at me, as if the throngs of people around us don’t exist…

It’s more than an effort to shove my poor heart into its shackles.

“I guess you’re an exception, doll,” He amends, and Sam rolls his eyes beside Bucky as they stop before me.

“It’s not like I’m right here,” Sam announces, making me giggle slightly and look to him.

“Hey Sam, good to see you,” I greet, walking over and hugging the man. He hugs me back, smiling brightly.

“Good to see you too,” Sam responds, his eyes catching on something over my shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some fans who need me.”

I laugh as I watch him walk over and greet a group of women by the bar. When I turn back to Bucky, I shove down my nerves and shake my head as I pull him into a hug.

“You look incredible, Buck,” I announce, trying to ignore the rightness of his body against mine as he pulls me into a hug that lasts a moment more than I should have let it.

“Y/N,” he deadpans, pulling back but leaving his arms on my waist to admire me. His eyes sparkle with something akin to awe that makes hope rise in my chest, “You put me and everyone else in this room to shame.”

“You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror,” I remark, desperately trying to not show all over my face how beautiful he is.

Bucky just smiles. He looks at me and he smiles and I am undone.

My eyes catch on Natasha over Bucky’s shoulder as she mingles in the background of the party. When our gazes meet she gestures to Bucky with a hand, mounting the words ‘Come on’ as she does. Nodding back to her, I remember the conversation we had a few days ago and right before we joined the gala. I have to be bold and make a move, take a chance before I lose the ability to do so.

“So,” I turn back to Bucky, smiling knowingly up at him, “How’re you doing with the whole party thing?”

Bucky takes in a breath, nodding his head slightly as he surveys the party scene around us. Drinks are flowing, laughs rising, and music is permeating through every sector of the Avengers Compound. The floor shakes with the base and the clattering of shoes as he looks back to me, “Oh you know, just fantastic.”

“Is that so?” I taunt, almost laughing at the dripping sarcasm in his voice. He shoots me a grumpy glare that finally unleashes my laugh. At the sound, Bucky’s features soften and a smile touches his lips. I notice this and furrow my brows up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, just holding that’s soft smile in his eyes that makes me almost forget the track of the conversation. When I snap myself from my daze, I gasp.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” I exclaim, holding my clutch up and opening it to find what I stashed earlier, “I know how you are with parties like this and all so I thought that this might help make it a better memory.”

“You got me a gift?” Bucky asks, shaking his head at me with furrowed brows, “You should have told me, I would’ve gotten you something too!”

I shake my head, finally finding what I’m looking for and glancing up at Bucky, “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

With a bright smile to cover my pounding, anxious heart, I hold out the small book in my hands. Bucky glances down at the gift I hold out, and I watch his body go still. Anticipation dances in my belly as he ever so gently reaches out and takes the old, fading The Hobbit novel into his hands.

“It’s a first edition, don’t ask me how I found it,” I inform, playing with the fabric of my dress to give my now empty hands something to do, “I know how much you loved it and now when you’re watching me read in the library, you can read too.”

My words ring out between us, and yet Bucky barely moves. Just when I’m beginning to grow nervous, my heart melts into a puddle in my chest when he lifts his steel-eyed gaze to me. I’ve never seen him cry before, but here and now I can see the lining of unshed tears in his gaze.

“Buck-"

He closes the distance between us, pulling me so close to him that there’s no room for separation. I melt into the hug, becoming nothing more than an extension of his body. There’s no him. There’s no me. There’s only us as we’re suspended in time, caught in this moment.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles, not moving back an inch and letting his voice cascade over my neck and down my spine, “You don’t know what this means to me.”

Reluctantly, I pull back. Every part of me shouts in protest, but I know we have to separate as some point. I give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the noose that’s slowly tightening around my heart. I’m a goner. I have no chance of recovery.

“Don’t mention it,”

Bucky stares at me for another moment, the charged silence soon taking on an anticipated feel. We’re both waiting for the other to make the first move, I can sense it. I see Nat nudge me from afar again and decide to finally muster up my courage and stop waiting. I notice Bucky shakes his head at something, mumbling something to himself, but I press on.

“Hey, do you wanna da-”

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Bucky bursts out at almost the same instant, making me cut off my sentence quickly.

A drink? He’s going to get a drink right now, as soon as I was about to ask him to dance? I know he didn’t mean it as a rejection, but it still stings like one.

“Oh, uh yeah sure. That’s-”

Before I can even finish speaking, Bucky has darted away desperately towards the bar at the North side of the room near Sam. I stand dumbfounded, my heart slowly sinking. This is going to be much harder than I thought.

|||

It's been nearly an hour and a half and Bucky is still managing to be everywhere that I am not.

I can take a hint. Even if that hint shatters my soul a little.

As I watch the super soldier mingle with some of the guests, a polite and slightly annoyed smile on his face, I feel something snap within my chest. Here I am, lounging pathetically at the bar all alone, and there he is, my best friend who I can't seem to fall out of love with. His strong jaw and steel eyes don't dare to turn in my direction, and I feel my fracturing soul crack even more.

I have to let it go. I have to let it go. I have to let him go.

With a long sigh, I pick up the drink before me and down its contents, letting the burn soothe away the edge of the crawling pain in my chest. Once the glass is slammed back down on the bar counter, I steel my nerves and stand.

It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.

My eyes scan the thick crowd scattered throughout every inch of Tony's gala. Music radiates through every molecule of air, and just one glance at the dance floor has my feet moving before my brain is. As I walk over to the dance floor, I see a random guy standing with a few others. He's cute enough with a charming smile, so I grab his arm as I walk past, making him glance over at me. I flash him my best smile and tug him towards the dance floor.

"Dance with me?" I ask boldly, and his smile widens.

"I'd be honored," He replies, letting me pull him onto the dance floor.

I should let myself be whisked away into the music and the movements and the feel of his hands on my hips as we dance. I should let the base and the crowd and the charming man before me wipe away every thought, but I just...can't. All I can think about when his hands slide gently on my waist is how different it feels when those hands are Bucky's. My heart is crushing slowly, and so I do everything I can to forget it.

It's actually beginning to work until the music abruptly cuts out.

Groans and boo's arise from the crowd with me on the dance floor as we all look around, trying to figure out why the music's stopped. "That's so weird," The nice guy I'm dancing with mumbles. I mention my agreement, my eyes sweeping the edges of the party before I catch a glint of dark metal. My eyes fly back to the metal only to see Bucky storming away from the sound booth, his metal fist clenched so hard that I'm surprised it doesn't malfunction. In his metal grasp is a hunk of wires, and my stomach drops.

He did not.

"Don't worry folks! I'll have the music back up in no time," Tony announces, flashing his winning smile to the crowd as he jogs to the sound booth, "There was a slight malfunction"

I see him shoot Bucky a glare, but true to his words the music is back up in a matter of minutes. I feel anger begin to make my blood boil and I pull away from the guy I was dancing with. I see a frown pull onto his face as he lets me go but follows me a few steps.

"Are you okay?" He calls after me, and my heart twists in sympathy. I must look absolutely furious and he probably thinks it's pointed at him. So, I do my best to give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm alright, thanks for the dance. I needed it," I comment, before turning and continuing my beeline for the brooding super soldier in the corner. He's standing with Sam, muttering something that I can't hear as I finally break through the crowd and walk up to them.

"Here we go," Sam mumbles, slowly backing away as I come to a stop in front of Bucky.

"What the hell, James?" I grit out.

"Oh she used the first name," Sam comments, his eyes widening, "I'm going to go check on Steve."

Then he leaves, and it's just Bucky and I. Bucky just shrugs, not meeting my furious gaze.

"I don't know what you're so mad about but-"

"Oh really? So you didn't just rip out the sound system?" I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest. He finally turns and meets my gaze, and damn it all I can't stop the swooning of my heart at the dark, rugged look on his face.

I'm angry, I remind myself. I'm angry with him.

"What does that have to do with you, sweetheart?"

I scoff, shaking my head at him, "You are unbelievable! I was finally starting to have a good night and-"

"Dancing with that handsy prick makes your night a good night then?" He interrupts, and I have to fight to keep the smug look off of my face at catching him.

"What were you saying about this having nothing to do with me?" I fire back, lifting an eyebrow. Bucky clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, probably expecting me to back off. I don't. Instead, I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to seem taller than him.

"I don't like you dancing with other men like that," Bucky informs, his voice dark. He's so close to me that his whiskey and pine scent invades my senses, threatening to empty my head of the argument at hand.

"I can dance with whoever the hell I want, Barnes. And since certain people made it very clear they didn't want to dance with me, then certain people should have no say in who I dance with"

"I don't dance, Y/N." His eyes are cool fire and they sear right through me. Even in this heated argument, all I can seem to think about is how badly I want him, body and soul. My thoughts are banished when he spits his next words out, "Not with you, not with anyone."

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. So why do I have to fight to keep the hurt off of my face?

Just like that, the fire in my argument is gone. I nod, taking a few steps back, "Okay, that's all you had to say."

And then I turn around and leave before he can see the tears welling in my gaze.

I force myself into the crowd, making sure I move quickly and weave myself between those around me to get away as fast as possible. Then, with my heart in my throat, I finally make it to the outskirts of the party where a glass sliding door leads out into a training field. Through the glass, I can see rain pouring down into the dark, almost moonless night.

Seeing it unravels a bit of the pain within my chest, and I don't even think as I slip off my heels and walk outside. I shut the door behind me, muting the sounds of the party and leaving the downpour of rain and the distant rumble of thunder to take over my senses. I set my heels down carefully and walk out into the field, barely jumping when the cool, refreshing droplets begin to pound into my skin. It's not long before I'm soaked and my entire outfit is ruined. I don't mind, though. I'm not planning on going back there anyways.

I sit down in the grass, not even minding how it dirties my dress, and hug my knees close. When I slip my eyes shut, I'm reminded why I love the rain so much.

In moments like this, I can't distinguish my tears from the rain

I don't know how long I sit like this, my eyes shut and the rain drenching me. Eventually, my body stops shaking from the sobs that have now subsided and any evidence of my breakdown has been washed away. I'm almost at peace when I hear that voice, that stupid, addicting voice, ring out behind me through the storm.

"I'd say you'll catch a cold, but I don't think you'd care much"

I swallow hard, cursing my heart for the way it jumps. I open my eyes, but keep my gaze firmly forward across the training field.

"Especially since it's coming from you," I add on, grateful for the lack of tremor in my words.

"I guess I deserved that one," Bucky concedes softly, his voice getting closer. My body begins to shiver with the anticipation of him being close, the response purely visceral and out of my control. I just hope he thinks it's from the rain.

"You think?" I scoff lightly, not having the strength to be angry anymore.

It's silent for a long while, and I almost begin to think that he's left and gone back inside. I'm proven otherwise when I see Bucky walk out from behind me, standing right in front of where I sit with my knees drawn to my chest. Against my better judgement, I look up.

And there he is, drenched like I am and an unreadable look upon his stupidly handsome face.

"Bucky-"

He extends out his human hand, and my words die, "Dance with me."

Every part of my heart beams, and it’s an effort to keep the fluttering of my heart out of my body language. I pause for a moment, almost as if to give him time to retract his hand. When he doesn’t, I hesitantly meet his gaze.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” I whisper. His half-smile grows as he looks down at me with what almost looks like…adoration.

“I don’t,” Bucky confirms, his voice like sugar and pine, “But for you I’d do anything”

I can’t even try to hide the visceral effect his words have on me. With a thousand butterflies batting in my stomach and my heart beating viscously out of rhythm, I allow a small smile to grow on my lips. A new excitement in my chest, I reach up and slip my hand into his large, rough one calloused with work and time. It fits mine perfectly, as always, and his touch muddles my senses and wakes me up all at once, as always.

As he helps me stand, the rain still pouring down on us, he tugs me close to him so suddenly that I stumble right into his chest. A small laugh escapes my lips as I catch myself on his broad chest. Bucky’s so close, so warm, so intoxicating to me that every fiber of my being yearns for his proximity. I’m nothing but a firing hum of nerves and sparks being this close to him, with a hand on his chest and his arm secured around my waist.

And we dance.

There’s no music, there’s no reason. We just dance. Bucky’s magnificent at it, every step dripping in ease and cool confidence that only makes me love him more. I’m so caught in the moment that every thought of a reciprocated or unrequited love has been banished from my mind. All that exists is here and now, underneath the downpour of the heavens with the cacophony of nature as our song.

He twirls me around, making water splash up and a giggle bubble out of me when I slip and fall directly into him. His body rumbles with low laughter when he catches me stopping my fall. Bucky doesn’t even have to say a word for me to know he’s making fun of me, so I slap his chest with a huff of laughter.

“What?” Bucky’s amused voice is the harmony to the melody of the rain.

“I can feel your judgement from here,” I point out, but before I can raise my lightened gaze to meet his on my own, a metal hand hooks under my chin and gently turns my face up until our eyes clash.

Suddenly, I’m not so humored anymore.

Neither is he, I can tell. The air is different—still light with joy but now corded with something deep, rich, and intangible. His piercing blue eyes seem to be burdened with a million different thoughts, but I can barely bring myself to breathe let alone ask him what is going through his beautiful mind.

Bucky doesn’t say a single word, though. He doesn’t have to. My eyes glance down to his lips for no more than one half of a second, and by the time I’ve returned my gaze to his, he’s closing to distance between us and connecting his lips to mine.

I’ve never understood what is so special about kissing in the rain. I get it now. There’s something so dichotomously beautiful in this moment, in the cold, relentless rain and the desperate, burning heat of Bucky’s lips moving against my own.

Again, no words are needed for us both to understand. This kiss is everything that has been bottling up over our friendship. It’s every quiet moment in the library and loud moment in our arguments. As his hands tug me closer and ignite my skin as if it were burning clean off, as his lips and tongue move with mine, every thought and worry and tear-filled, longing night washes away. The very thought makes me sigh into the kiss, and finally we break apart only for the need for air.

Bucky doesn’t let me pull away an inch.

His arms keep my locked close, his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. He nudged my nose with his before pulling away only enough to meet my gaze. One hand of his cradles my jaw, his thumb running lazy circles on my cheek.

“Does this mean you like me?” I whisper, a humored glint already lighting my gaze. Bucky laughs roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine that don't go unnoticed. Rather, the other hand he keeps on my waist lifts to absently trace the path of the shiver, almost making my knees go weak.

“I more than like you,” Bucky quips, a content smile taking over his features. My heart misses a step and I don’t dare to dream.

“You really like me?” I taunt, and another heart-warming laugh pours from those perfect lips.

“You’re gonna make me say it, doll?”

I swallow thickly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t dare to say another word, leaving the challenge up to him. Bucky sighs, moving the hand he keeps on my spine to cradle the other side of my face, now cupping it in his full grasp. He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back enough to where his lips still graze mine as he speaks.

“I love you, Y/N. Always have. Always will.”

My knees nearly go weak, and suddenly I'm so very grateful for the rain's ability to hide what is a drop and what is a tear. I'd never hear the end of it from him if he knew that's what his confession brought me to. When one of thumbs catches a stray tear, though, I know he's fully aware.

"I love you too, Buck."

Bucky smirks before me, bringing his mouth close to my ear and sending another shiver racing down my spine, "I figured that much out, sweetheart"

"Oh whatever!" I announce, hitting his shoulder but leaning in closer to his mouth that now trails from my jaw back to my lips. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips before holding me close to his chest and looking up into the sky that downpours upon us.

"Rain therapy, I guess it really does work," Bucky remarks.

"I would say I told you so, but-" I'm cut off by Bucky suddenly grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.

"What was that?" Bucky calls up to me, spinning me slightly and only making me giggle louder.

"Bucky, I'm in a dress!" I protest. He slaps my ass smugly and begins to walk with me still over his shoulder back to the compound.

"I know, let's get you out of that"

As my laugh tumbles out of my mouth, it twirls and dances and gets lost with the pounding of the rain and the rolling of the thunder. Once again, I'm in the debt of the rain, and I can't help but smile at it gratefully as my best friend and the love of my life walks triumphantly with me over his shoulder into the midst of Tony's nice party. Neither of us care about the looks we receive, though. Neither of us even notices.

All we see is the rain and each other.

[antiquarianfics]

Just a library of things I wrote for ease of access!

Fics are ordered newest to oldest.

❀ Fluff ○ Angst ✧ Smut

★ Personal Favorite ✰ 1k+ Notes

Requesting Guidelines

Oneshots

Making Waves ❀○ Bucky gives you a pep talk when life’s beating down on you a little too hard.

Shoot Me ❀ Bucky swears he doesn’t like Y/N. In fact, he’s so confident he’ll challenge this: If he likes Y/N, shoot him.

Accidental | pt 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5○ What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

Draw 4 ❀ You always swear you can hold your liquor until the next morning when you’ve no clue how you’re $80 richer and why your husband is too amused for your liking.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa ❀ ✰ Becca Barnes is generally not a serious child. She is, on the contrary, quite the opposite. She’s a silly, carefree, easy-going kid, so whenever her demeanor changes to the opposite, it is an immediate red flag that something is wrong.

A Slip of the Tongue ❀ ✰ Bucky reacts to your daughter’s new name for him as she tells him all about her new friend.

Slow Down ❀ An object in motion stays in motion until acted upon by an outside force. In this case, you’re the object and Bucky is the outside force.

You Have a Girlfriend? ❀ ★ ✰ So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

The Best Things Take Time ❀ ✰ Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

Therapy ❀ Sometimes all a person needs is a little reassurance they’re not a bad person.

Jealousy, Jealousy ❀ ○ ✰ Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, or so they say. You’d argue that jealousy is actually a blue-eyed, one-armed, super soldier.

Better Than Us ❀ Being a woman is hard, and it’s not necessarily something you’d wish on another.

Marry Me? Nah. Marry Me? Yeah. ❀ ★ ✰ 4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

Buck Moon ❀ So maybe you read the Farmer’s Almanac wrong. It’s still a successful date.

Shower ❀ ○ Sometimes it's all you can do to breathe. Sometimes you need a little help--even with the basics. Bucky's happy to help.

Sun to Me ❀ If there is one thing Bucky Barnes remembers about his mother, it is that she told him to find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of him. If there is one thing Bucky Barnes knows about Reader, it is that they grow him to the clouds.

Timeless ❀ Reader wonders how their life might have looked different in 1944, but they know they still would have loved Bucky Barnes.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Series

Taken (ongoing) ○ If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Drabbles

Poolside ❀

Distraction ❀○

Can I? ❀ ✰

Not What I Heard ❀✰

Ruinin’ the Game ❀

[redxwater]

Waiting Room (Chapter 1)

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

(Warnings chapter 1 : depression, anxiety, harsh language.)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,

° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - ° - °

“Yeah, no i’ll be fine Claire. Call you later” a young blonde boy spoke through the phone. Call connected to Washington D.C from NYC. On the other line in the capital was a younger woman. “Okay, text me if there’s anything!” The brunette girl smiled before hanging up. Claire was Leon’s best friend, but she isn’t always capable of helping him. She tries her best though.

Leon didn’t want a foster family, even if it was for the better. He lived with Claire’s family for a few months before getting a scholarship in a music major. He tells himself he’s lucky, in a way… Claire has known him for 4 years, since they were freshmen. Her family loved Leon, sometimes they hoped they would end up together, but they never did.

With a deep sigh, he rolled out of bed and put on the jeans that were on the floor, and a sweater. He threw on his old white sneakers and put some deodorant on. He grabbed his phone and headphones and was out the door.

He didn’t brush his hair, he hadn’t for 3 days. He stuffed some gum in his mouth and spat it out 5 minutes later, before heading into english class. He had been at college for a month, it wasn’t that bad, but he thinks it is. Everything sucks. Literally everything. Depression was something he struggled with even before he lost his parents. He tried therapy for a long while but didn’t feel like it worked.

Leon is a quiet observer, he knows most people in his classes. Well their names at least, today was no different. Despite his depression his grades are peaked, he has the same routine everyday and that includes school work. “Leon Kennedy?” the professor went through the absence list. He sticks his hand in the air and puts it down again. The man in front of the class nods and goes on until it’s done.

English was boring, Leon always has been a very smart kid. But maybe that was a good thing right now too. He didn’t have too put too much effort into everything.

The blonde boy hadn’t shared a dorm for a few weeks, he didn’t expect anyone to move in by now but when he opens his door at the end of the day, he’s surprised by boxes everywhere. He just tries to ignore it and grabs a glass of water.

Leon dials Claires number and waits for her to pick up “Hey what’s up?” The other line speaks. “I think i got a roommate, there’s boxes everywhere” he says while sitting on the small kitchen counter. “Oh cool! Are they nice?” She asks with enthusiasm, hoping Leon could make some friends, maybe. “Dunno, maybe. Haven’t met them yet. But it’s a mess here and i don’t like it” he mumbles a bit while inspecting the boxes in the room.

Leon has always been quite neat if it comes to anything but his bedroom. His bedroom is a mess, not disgusting but just a mess. “Can’t you put it all in their room?” She asks sounding a bit crisp through he phone. “Why would i? It’s not my shit. I’m just gonna be in my room.” He says and abruptly hangs up. He’s not annoyed about sharing a dorm. He doesn’t care. As long as they acknowledge each other’s presence and keep things to as much as a “hi” there should be no problem.

Leon settles behind his desk in his room and does some homework before playing a few games. Around 7 he goes out the door, there’s still boxes. Where could that roommate be?

“Oh shit i’m sorry!” A girl bumps into Leon in front of the dorm room he came out of. “Oh you’re my roommate!” You exclaim. “Right.” Leon dryly replies. You tell him your name and stick out your hand for the blonde guy shake. “Leon.” He shakes your hand. “Can you sort those boxes out?” He asks with an annoyed tone “Oh yeah totally” you smile and go into the dorm. “See you later, Leon” you close the door and Leon walks away.

You spend all evening unpacking and put stuff everywhere around the dorm. You accidentally open the door to Leons room, thinking it was the bathroom. The room is dark, it smells fine. Mostly like men’s deodorant. Even in the dark you see clothes everywhere on the floor. You shrug your shoulders, you’re not the neatest either.

After 2 hours Leon returns and looks slightly surprised for a second to see you. He’s not used to living with someone in his dorm. He doesn’t say anything and just walks by to his room. Before he can enter you speak “where did you go?” You ask trying to get to know him a bit. “Doesn’t matter” he cuts off and closes his door. Weird guy, you think. But there’s something about him, you just know.

-

Thanks for the votes on my poll pookies!! Hope u like it

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Buddie fics of 2023!

Every single year at @epicstuckyficrecs I used to do a fic rec at the end of the year with my favorite fics. I figured I should keep the tradition going! So, without further ado, these are my favorite Buddie fics (in no particular order) published in 2023! (you can also check out some other favorite Buddie fics of mine here)

If you have any favorites that aren't in this list, don't hesitate to share them in the comments! :)

Complete

find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-Season 6, Getting together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

come with me, together, we can take the long way home series by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Canon compliant | 105K | T to M):

Get me through the night; Make me feel alright (Post-S3 Finale | 11K | Mature): After an emotionally-gutting reunion with Abby, Buck turns to old coping mechanisms. Eddie helps him find a better way. In Uncertain Times, The Uncertain Rules Apply (Pre-S4 | 22K | Teen): Covid comes to LA. Eddie copes. Or doesn't. Holding out for Something More (Stuck in Reverse) (Post S4E3/Lone Star Crossover | 26K | Teen): LA is coming out of lockdown and the world is returning to some sense of normalcy. But going back to the way things were hurts more than Buck expected. While his therapist challenges him to confront what he really wants, the team takes a trip to Austin... and El Paso. so far from being free (S4E4: 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, S4E5: Buck Begins | 46K | Teen): That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible.

Kink Club AU series by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Dom Eddie, Sub Buck | Complete | Explicit): Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01.

The Warmth (of You) (25K): aka where Buck and Eddie first meet at a kink club before the firehouse To Weather the Storm (With You) (21K): aka the fallout of Buck finding out the dom he met at a Kink Club is his new coworker Safe Here (With You) (20K): aka Buck and Eddie handle working a shift after their first scene The Building Pressure (of You) (15K): aka Buck reaches out to Eddie after he leaves Abby's place in 2x07 An Offer to Torment (You) (14K): aka Eddie is all twisted up inside about what to do with Shannon. Buck offers himself up for some much needed holiday stress relief.

like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): Evan gave up trying to explain what happens to him after his parents forced him to have a talk with one of their friends, supposedly a pediatric therapist, and cruelly hinted that if Evan didn’t stop seeing and talking about his “invisible friends” as if they were real then his parents would send him far away to places where they lock children up in padded rooms. “Look,” Evan says quickly, forcing out the words before he gets too scared to speak,” I—I know this is going to sound crazy, but, um, ever since I was a kid I can see ghosts.”

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

Don't They Know It's the End of the World? by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalyptic | 32K | Mature | Warning: Violence): After being put in a cryogenic sleep for over a hundred years to wait out an apocalyptic event, Eddie Diaz wakes up, too early, to find his son has been stolen from his cryo-chamber. Scared and alone in a frightening world he doesn't recognize, Eddie is willing to do anything to get his kid back.

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

WIP

And here are my favorite WIP that I really hope will continue to be updated in 2024! 🤞

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 11/? | 96K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 104/? | 283K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 10/? | 25K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 89K | 20/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 7/? | 12K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Bittersweet

malleus as therapy.

cw: mental illness, suicide mention/ideation, overdose mention, psychological trauma. no gore or horror though.

(wrote this a while ago. based on a real life event for me.)

“It is difficult for me to understand.”

Malleus’s voice draws me out of the fog of my own mind and back to reality like the tether of a wayward life preserver. I wonder what he would think of this comparison.

“What is?” I ask, hoping not to make it too obvious that I wasn’t listening. I was, at first. I just have a lot going on right now. I always do.

He slow-blinks, catlike, lizardlike, dragonlike, his spring green eyes focusing on me a bit more purposefully. “That humans treat birthdays as occasions to celebrate,” he says, possibly repeating himself, to my sheepish guilt. “They have such short lifespans, yet they are so eager to lose another year each time.”

“Oh.” I clutch my stomach. I feel sick, and not because I ate too much cake. “Well, it’s not that simple. I-”

Deuce and Ace and Grim have started a conga line. I instinctively wince away from the noise, even though they're my best friends and I love seeing them happy, because the whole room is too loud and too close and I really think I might hurl.

“I, um, I’ll be right back.”

I set my paper plate aside and dart - slink - scrabble away from the chaos. I feel an episode coming on, or maybe it’s been playing for a while now, like a show I put on Netflix and left forgotten on autoplay until it asks me if I’m still watching. The brambles of unwanted memories tug at me with sharp fingers.

I wind up in the Diasomnia courtyard. It has benches under trees. It has a fountain. It has fog because of course it does, it’s Diasomnia. I sit on a bench and shut my eyes and grit my teeth against the acid burning through my stomach.

[ ping ]

My phone wants my attention. Normally it’s superglued/surgically attached to my hand, and muscle memory politely shoves me toward checking it, but I can’t look.

[ ping ] [ ping ] [ ping ]

The messages flicker before my eyes as clearly as when I first read them.

[ ping ]

It was weird, I had thought at the time. A couple vague posts from my friends popped up in my feed at random. Eventually I messaged one to find out what happened.

[ ping ] [ ping ]

Overdose, they’d said. Insulin and antidepressants. A month’s supply of hoarded medications. Suddenly the posts made awful sense. Claws gripped my heart and made it hard to breathe.

[ ping ]

“I had almost forgotten that humans can tell lies.”

Malleus’s voice startles me out of my woeful thoughts. “What?” I ask stupidly.

He gazes down at me. His features are shrouded by the dark, but I can see the downward turn of his mouth and feel the intensity of his eyes. He’s concerned. “You said you would be right back.”

I turn away from him and look at the ground. “Sorry,” I mumble. “You wanna sit down?”

He does. His presence warms the air next to me. I want to isolate myself - it’s so easy - but I make myself scoot closer to him so he can at least hold my hand.

“A lot of people hate birthdays,” I blurt out abruptly. “Like, they gripe about getting older, usually.”

My hand curls up tighter. He’s so different from me, all soothing heat and composure and grace to my sharp edges and cold, jittery nightmare of an existence.

“Is that what troubles you?” he asks quietly. His voice helps.

“No.” My voice wobbles, about to fall off the balance beam. This was not how I pictured having this conversation. In fairness, I had hoped it was a conversation I would never need to have. “A couple years ago. Something bad happened.”

Malleus is yet unfamiliar with many a human habit and social convention, but it seems he has learned at least one from me. He lifts one arm and rests it along the back of my shoulders.

My voice goes strangely cold and steady.

“My friend died. Killed herself. She overdosed and had seizures for ten days until they took her off life support the day before my birthday.”

The words linger like the bitter fog of my breath in the air. He says nothing.

“I hate my birthday now. I’m mad at her for doing this to me. I hate myself for being mad at her. I hate it because it could’ve been-”

My voice hitches as if caught on a sharp edge. If I open my mouth to try again, I know I’ll choke on tears.

“It could have been you?”

He poses the question as delicately as the touch of a fallen petal.

I’ve already cried over this so much that I don’t think I can ever cry again. But I’m finding it hard to breathe, the air escaping from my chest in erratic puffs of visible vapor.

[ ping ]

I hated the group chat they’d made. A dozen semi-strangers propping each other up with worthless promises that she would be okay, even though I knew the moment I heard the news that she wouldn’t make it. So many people lamenting how sad it was. So many “my door is always open”s.

“I think I understand.”

Malleus speaks close to my ear. I fall into his embrace as though collapsing under the weight of my words.

“It is not about celebrating the loss of a year,” he says in a soft murmur, “but the completion of one that might have been lost.” He strokes my hair. “As if conquering a great foe in battle.”

“Mhm. Slaying the dragon.”

It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. But he laughs.

“I should hope not. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m making you miss it.”

“All is well.” He leans his head against mine. “I do not believe I am missing anything.”

I want to accept this as a wistful sentiment, but I make myself stand up. “Well, contrary to popular belief,” I say, taking both of his hands in my own, “birthday parties aren’t exclusively for you.” I give a light tug to pull him to his feet, and he rises with the poise of a dancer. “They’re also for your friends to eat cake and play games and be super obnoxious. So you shouldn’t leave them hanging.”

I never thought I would find the lights and crowd noise of a party welcoming, but I welcome it. Malleus keeps a hand around my shoulders - protective, comforting - until he’s certain I’ve recovered enough to stand on my own. I’m not quite up to joining the conga line, but I help myself to another slice of cake and some bonbons and a cup of punch.

“Feeling better?”

Lilia winks into existence next to me.

I’ve given up asking how he did that or when he showed up or anything else to the tune of fact-checking him against reality. “I forget you two can hear a pin drop in the next zip code,” I say as flatly as I can.

He gives a light laugh and pats my head. “I only want to make sure you are well,” he says.

“I think given my track record it’s safe to say that I’ve never been very well, Lilia.”

A strange expression settles over his eyes. Something knowing. Something…aged.

“It is never easy to face a monster in battle,” he says. “No matter your experience, your skills, your preparation- every confrontation is unique.”

I hold eye contact with him and sense I am speaking to a very different man.

“Do you know the meaning of bravery, young one?”

“Something something not being afraid of things?” I offer.

His smile politely declines my suggestion. “Silver made that mistake as well.” Lilia reaches over and taps me on the nose. “To be fearless is not to be brave, child of man. True courage lies in having fear and choosing to fight regardless of it.”

My gaze sweeps back to Malleus. Sebek is losing any composure he might have had due to a smear of frosting marring his lord’s white blazer. I look down at the half-finished cake in front of me. “It never stops, does it?” My voice comes out in a half-whispered croak. “I’ll never win.”

Lilia ruffles my hair. “You won’t know unless you try, young one.” His smirk never wavers, but it looks more genuine. “Besides,” he says with a knowing glance at my band of idiots - Grim balancing precariously atop Ace’s shoulders and trying to place a birthday tiara around Malleus’s horns - “it is hardly as though you are fighting alone.”

[altf4d3lete]

EPISODE TWO

- “maybe it’s one of your classmates” erm or maybe it’s your fucking son and you just decided to ignore the fact that he could be a Hyde too because you didn’t want that to be true

- Weems trying so hard to protect the school. Love her even tho she’s controversial

- Bro wednesday is better than me bc if Rowan walked in smiling at me like that I would have actually lost my shit right then and there

- “Was it to gain attention” what a horrible therapist wtf

- Why does this therapy session feel like a fight omg

- EW TYLER. Sorry.

- Court ordered therapy how badly did you fuck Xavier up bro

- “I believe you” i wonder why bro you’re so manipulative

- ENID MY BBG 😭 “i will literally scratch my own eyes out” “i would pay money to see that” and enid just whips around with a huge smile THEYRE SO CUTE

- HUH??? BY EPISODE TWO THING IS GIVING ENID NECK MASSAGES THATS CRAZY

- Enid not being mean about Rowan being alive unlike SOMEONE (Xavier)

- Yoko looks so done im sobbing

- The gentle rejection from Wednesday and Enid taking it with no issue

- ENID’S WINK

- Is the choir only sirens

- THE FAINT BARKING AFTER SHE SINGS THE NOTE DOGS CAN HEAR

- “Ever shot a bow and arrow” “only on live targets” proceeds to mansplain how to shoot a bow he’s so annoying I can’t stand Xavier im sorry

- She HATES him it’s so funny

- EUGENEEEE

- poor guy aw she just left him there

- There’s just casually a severed hand running through the train station

- THE WAY SHE SLAMS XAVIER’S SPIDER IS SO FUNNY

- Xavier is so awkward sitting between his ex and his crush AND they’re beefing

- Sheriff Galpin is kinda annoying

- HELP ENID BEING SASSY BC THING IS MAD

- Not her coaching wednesday on thing

- “go apologize” “yes ma’am 😐😕”

- Imagine losing your family to a pink sparkly werewolf

- Awww her opening up to thing is so cute

- COUGHS her GREATEST FEAR is being responsible for something terrible and y’all r saying she’d be okay dating someone who was going to help genocide her classmates that’s crazy.

- “I can’t let that happen”

- Y’all she was genuinely concerned abt being the reason the school is in trouble

- Her crushing Eugene about Enid is crazy

- Tyler is so manipulative holy shit

- God she trusted Laurel that sucks so much

- Sigh she can relate to Laurel and that sucks so bad

- I feel so bad for her the one adult she felt like could understand her

- Damn Xavier is so argumentative towards Bianca wtf

- Wednesday was so mad about Bianca cheating to hurt Enid

- MY POOR BABY CRYING ENID :((

- SHES JOINING FOR ENID BE FR WEDNESDAY. YOURE MAD ABT BIANCA’S COMMENT TOWARDS ENID

- I love how they’re always attached at the hip

- WEDNESDAY PUT ON A CATSUIT FOR ENID BE FR EARS AND EVERYTHING

- Enid just not being afraid by Wednesday’s threats

- The way nearly getting beheaded by an axe in the poe cup is just normal

- Enid trusting Wednesday to get the flag

- YES GIRL BREAK THEIR BOAT ENID

- The way she’s way faster than Xavier and Ajax because they got there before and she’d practically caught up with them by the time they got to the crypt (she took a shortcut nvm)

- Goody my bbg 😞

- Xavier getting so mad abt losing is crazy bro literally fell off his seat

- AND YELLING “CHEATERS” HELP

- WWWD I love you enid

- YEA THING PUNCH THAT MF FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND

- ENID WAITING TO RUN TO THE FINISH LINE FOR WEDNESDAY TO HOLD THE FLAG TOO IM ILL

- AND THEM HOLDING IT TOGETHER

- ENID LITERALLY SIDE HUGGING AND SHAKING HER AND WEDNESDAY DOESNT CARE

- they’re so cute

- With how far wednesday went from the quad and how quick enid found her, enid probably immediately went looking for Wednesday after noticing she was missing

- The way she’s hugging Wednesdays arm is so cute

- And the way wednesday looks at enid awww

- WEEMS BEING MORTICIAS COPILOT AND WEDNESDAY BEING ENIDS THATS SO CUTE

- “Ah yes. Me, my gf, and her 5 foot tall trophy”

- Why did she write everything in caps except the “i”s

- The ol’ Addams family snap

- Damn bro got kidnapped that’s crazy

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Headcannons about them with an anxious SO? Love your stuff x

Thank you, friend! Now, in full canonical honesty, I don’t believe that either Nathan or Sam would be particularly good at dealing with their deeper anxiety, let alone someone else’s, let alone someone else’s who they loved dearly and would only be afraid to make it worse (that many crumbling bridges and a guy’s gotta if consider his only superpower is the ability to destroy everything he touches) for most of their young lives. 

However, I do believe that post-UC4 (perhaps a little earlier for Nathan), and a good dose of necessary therapy (paid for in pirate coins, of course)--- they’d be more than willing to finally take on the challenge. 

For themselves, and for the person they love more than anything.

Drakes with an Anxious S/O Headcanons

Nathan:

In his younger days, the prince of the awkward smile and half-hearted clap on the back. A pulley doll whose only catchphrases were “Man, that’s hard”, “Yeah. Yeesh.”, and “Soooo, I guess this would be a bad time for a joke, huh?”. Scurries to the bathroom as soon as they’re not in tears anymore, and stays there for as long as it takes to stop hearing the residual sobs.

However, his late 30s and 40s bring him a much healthier perspective (and therapy— Jesus, finally) and being the smarty pants he is, he passes on no opportunity to put his new skills and knowledge to use.

That playfulness and desire to find the lightness in even the hardest situations never leaves him at any age, though.

A panic attack? “‘Is something… wrong with you’? You realize you’re talking to the guy who accidentally destroys ancient temples for a living, as an archaeologist? And I still consider myself a not so bad guy. So in my eyes, you’re basically a lesser known Mesopotamian god.”

Got a bad grade? “A D in Psychometrics? I don’t know, sounds like they don’t know anything about math if they’re using a letter to grade you. Maybe they should go get their teaching certificates checked. Hey, how ‘bout I just draw you a PhD myself? You know I have an eye for art.” 

Dealing with shitty parents? Landlord? Roommates? Exes who won’t leave you the fuck alone? “What? That buffoon? Guy who can’t even spell their own name right? That asshole isn’t worth a thought of a thought of a thought in your head. Pretty sure they haven’t had a thought in their own head since 1996.”

As soon as the first wide-toothed smile is won, he’s leaning into his partner with a secretive smirk: “Ya wanna get the hell out of here?” 

Because distractions always helped him before. 

Will act especially gentlemanly, and theatrically play it up, while taking their partner for a frozen yogurt, antique shop, Target trip, public park, laser tag (yes, really) decompress. Bows when he opens the car door for them. Pays for everything. Calls them ‘your majesty’ for the entirety of the excursion.

All he wants is to get them to smile. And he’s not stopping until he sees it. 

When the night creeps in and his S/O starts to lose steam, Nathan’s own worry grows more obvious, though he tries his best to keep it to himself. 

Watches them with wide eyes. Gives them space, but still asks every few minutes if they need a cup of water. No? Tea? Arnold Palmer? Popsicle? Massage? Hot Pocket? Sexy pillow fight? However many it takes to make his partner laugh again. But he fully means every offer he gives.

Says nothing as he helps them undress and into their PJs. Touches are tender and intimate, gently rubs their shoulders and neck. Never too hard, never too direct. Plays the friendly ghost and lets their partner take the lead, but never, ever just sits around to watch.

Makes them a beverage of some sort, even if they say no. Hot lemonade with honey is his personal homecure. Says yellow is a happy color, so it must be good for you.

And right before they turn the lights out, Nate timidly offers— with a shy, trying chuckle— if they want him to read them a bedtime story. 

Somehow shocked every time they say yes. Mumbles something self-derogatory about himself (“Ya know, not the best actor, but—” “Personally I think I have the voice of a dying goose, but—”) before sitting on the nearest surface and cracking open a book.

If he’s still feeling a little awkward, will uneasily ask if they wanna hear what he’s been reading lately, and will do so if asked— but really wants to read the pirate storybooks his mother read to him and Sam when they were kids.

It always made him feel better when the world felt too big, too scary, too cruel. 

So he wants to share it with the person he loves. 

He wants to share everything with the person he loves.

And without even asking, goes to the medicine cabinet and brings them a tablet of whatever they need when the anxiety gets especially bad, and says “I know, it’s scary. But we’ve been through scary before, right?” with a kiss on the cheek as they swallow it down with a sip of lemonade.

Lingers, eyes down, and vaguely nods to nobody as he stands and walks to the door.

“Want me… uh, want me to keep reading to you?” But he offers before he can even get past the door frame. 

“Do you want me to want you to keep reading to me?” 

And the last thing he wants to see is his love, alone. The idea of them crying beneath the covers because they were too afraid to burden him with it, too afraid to be seen. Everything he felt he had to do when he was 6 and his mother “passed”, age 9, 10, 11, 12 after a black eye, the words that his brain told him wrong: spoken aloud by the playground bullies he feared he’d never be stronger than. 

But he knew they were wrong. The bullies were wrong. The ones in his brain. The ones in theirs.

“Yes.” He replies without missing a beat. 

And he makes sure to hold their hand in his free one until the second they fall asleep… and a few hours after, just to be safe.

The next morning they fucking better expect breakfast in bed— and he maybe, just maybe, might even be willing to spring for McDonald’s, if that’s what they want. As long as they promise to eat actual fruit after. And hell, maybe even a vegetable or two when he makes dinner that night. Did you know that eating right and exercise are actually primary solutions to poor mental health—? That’s what Dr. Dorian said— No, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable— no, especially not if it’s fried— NO, FRENCH FRIES DON’T COUNT, BABY—

Sam:

Sam takes a bit longer to warm up to discussing anxiety than Nathan does, mostly due to struggling so deeply with it on his own. It’s not like prisoners (or Shoreline guards) made the most comforting companions. 

The better he could keep secrets, the less he could reveal, the safer he’d be.

So it makes sense that it’s both his greatest strength and weakness when it comes to emotionally turbulent times. 

In his younger, more avoidant years, he’d be the first to leave the room, leave the building, hell, sometimes even leave the city after a particularly heavy cry or confrontation with his then-partner. Only to come back the next morning and act like nothing ever happened. 

But now, he doesn’t run. After prison, after Rafe, after Madagascar, all he wants is to be allowed to stay. To be wanted to stay by someone who loves him. 

Is happiest to just sit with you in the silence. His biggest skill is his ability to weather the storm. And whether you need to scream bloody murder, or need to sit and decompress and just fucking feel, but can’t do it alone, Sam’s there. Listening. 

Once you’re done talking, he takes one last, long drag of his cigarette, stubs it out onto the pavement, and asks simply: “So do you want solutions… or something else, sweet’art?” 

You can see in his eyes— darting less than solid, certain against your own— that he really means it, in every way that he was too afraid to when he was younger.

The wonderful and terrifying thing about having anxiety while Sam is there is that it’s a vulnerable experience for the both of you. He’s learning, discovering, trying right along with you. And he may not be able to lift you up so easily, but he’ll be able to sink into the dark places with you, and not be afraid to see what’s down there. 

And maybe seeing someone he loves so deeply, sees as so beautiful, so smart, so kind, so wonderful, so absolutely perfect to him feel the same ways he does about himself… maybe it makes him think that he’s not as terrible as his brain tells him, either. 

Helps you take action by letting himself (finally) not be the smart one: “When ya… get like this, what do you usually do first, sweet’art? Paint me a pit’chure.” Gives you complete control, and smiles softly when you wipe your tears and the logical, the archaeological mind awakens. Mimics unraveling an ancient map when you begin to explain, and you inadvertently hiccup out a laugh. 

At times, it’ll feel like he’s trying to run again, but when he stands up and walks across the room— he always returns. This time with your favorite of his jackets, the denim one that smells like him even though he just cleaned it, and drapes it protectively over your shoulders. Clasps his palm at the back of your neck and rubs out the knot he always finds there. Smiles toothy and wide when your words are broken up by sighs of relief. Only to be filled once again with silence, gazes meeting sweet and safe. 

“Remember Indonesia?” He offers with a smirk, despite your furrowed brow.

“I guess? What about—?” 

“I read the runes’ instructions and ran us in circles all around Bali, only to reread the transcript and realized I got three letters completely wrong. J—V—A. Java. It was goddamn Java the entire time.” 

“Your point being?” 

He smiles and shrugs. Trying. Maybe he’s wrong, a foreigner in some ancient, uncertain land, but he tries.

“Sometimes our brains are just wrong.” He tries for you. “That’s all.”

You sniffle, and he leans in to press a prickly kiss to your cheek. His jacket is still warm from the dryer, wafting with the residual sting of cigarette, Old Spice Captain, cheap mouthwash, even cheaper aftershave, and something else completely unnameable. 

And maybe some others would think the scent appalling, but it’s the strangeness, the specificity, and yes, the stank— everything that makes Sam him— that makes you love it. Love him. The depth. The difference. 

The pain, and what he chose to do with it. 

Another kiss, this time down your neck. This time, the sigh of relief is his own.

What he chose to change it into. 

“So… any chance sex therapy might be a thing?” He asks grinningly.

“Why don’t we find out, ‘sweet’art’?”

[kingkatsuki]

We’ve been talking about prison AUs so much in the group chat lately, but I was thinking last night like imagine a Prison AU except it’s reversed. Cause we’re always writing Villain Bakugou locked away in Tartarus.

But imagine you’re the prisoner in maximum security. And maybe Dynamight is tasked with talking to you as part as a Pro-Hero program to try and rehabilitate you, or something like that. So he’s supposed to be finding out about your crimes or what you’ve done wrong.

Or imagine if you’re the reason that someone on his team (or Dynamight himself), got hurt while he was out on the field. And as part of his own healing/therapy process he’s told that he has to go and meet you. That it could be good for him, that it’ll help.

And not to mention that it’s the final thing standing between him and being allowed to return to work out on the field. Being on desk duty for the last four months has arguably been worse for him than the injuries sustained in battle with you, and he’s itching to get back out there and regain his position as the number two. Having to spend the months since the incident watching his rank continue to dip as he settles at the bottom of the top ten has been demoralising.

But he’s still filled with so much rage and hatred for you, that while you’re the one bound and shackled against the table, he’s the one that they should be worried about.

And he hates the way he finds himself easing into you, the smooth caramel to your voice has him practically melting as he finds himself drowning in it. He shouldn’t be enjoying his visit with you, he should be lunging over the table to cause you the same pain you’ve caused him.

You look so meek and innocent on the other side of the table, that he somehow can’t believe that you’re the one that caused so much destruction.

So when he leaves after your first visit together, he thinks that’s it. That somehow it’s all he needed to do and he’s cured, that he won’t have to come back or ever see your face again. And it’s all the boxes checked to allow him to go back to work and be back out in the field.

But he can’t stop thinking about you—

And it’s different now. The thoughts he once had immediately after the incident and in the following months had been so full of rage and hatred, picturing all the ways he could cause you the same pain that you’d caused him. Make you feel how he feels after you basically ruined his life, to take something from you in return. Vengeful thoughts that plagued him every hour of every day since you first tumbled into his life. The therapy not enough to quell the hatred that boils inside him whenever he thinks of you. But now all he can think about is what you’re doing, who you were before the incident, and what led you down this path.

Even when he’s signed off and now back on patrol, exactly what he’s wanted— he’s still thinking about you. But the thoughts aren’t purely innocent.

The scent of you (or your quirk) invades his senses as he tries to push you to the deepest depths of his mind, to focus on his life and his career. But he can’t. He’s damn near disgusted when he wraps a fist around his thick cock, stroking himself in the agency showers as water cascades around his broad shoulders. Leaning his forehead against his forearm as he watches the creamy droplets of his spend disappear down the drain as he pictured leaving the same stains against your skin.

And no one is more surprised than you are when you see a name appear on your visitation list, when not even your friends or family have come to visit you since you’d committed your crimes. No one had been on your side of the court during your trial, for your sentencing.

But the name is there in bold, black lettering.

Bakugou Katsuki.

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 7)

eren/reader

reincarnation & memory loss

rating: M (16+)

cw: canon-typical & internalized xenophobia, disassociating

word count: 2061

<- CH 6

“Mr. Kruger?”

“Um- …yeah.”

You scowl.

Mr. Kruger looks over at you. “What?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Get uncomfortable when I say your name.”

“It’s-” his cheeks flush pink. You’re not used to them doing that because in the real world they don't; but here, in this dream you find yourself trapped in, things are different.

Mr. Kruger is different.

“Is it because that’s not your name here?” You ask him. “I can call you by your other name if you want.”

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch next to you and you can’t help but want to tease him, just a bit. He’s so easy to tease here and it’s fun. You lean in closer.

He freezes as your hand rests against his arm. As your chest brushes his shoulder. As your lips tickle the shell of his ear:

“Eren.”

His cheeks burn an even deeper red. It makes you think about thedifferences between this dream and reality. 

Everything is so much quieter here. The city is still loud, of course, but there’s a peace to it. A peace that you never find in Liberio. 

The food here is better. There’s more flavor and more food in general because nothing is rationed.

There’s no war. No pain. No suffering. And no red spray paint against brick walls.

And then there’s Mr. Kruger.

Eren.

He looks the same (although he’s got both eyes and legs). With the same long hair (although he normally ties it up instead of letting it hang down) and the same facial features (although his skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes). He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…

Mr. Kruger smiles here. He smiles and he laughs and he plays with the cats while he tells you about his friends. 

He was alive in Liberio in the sense that he was breathing, eating, moving around and going through the motions of life. But here, in this beautiful vivid peaceful dream, here Mr. Kruger is able to live.

And there’s a difference, you suppose. A difference between living and being alive.

Maybe that’s what made them different people, despite all of their similarities.

There was something depressingly poetic about the whole thing, but you didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it right now.

“Mr. Kruger.” You say and he visibly relaxes. You follow up with: “I’m hungry.” 

Mr. Kruger shoots off the couch and darts into the kitchen without another word.

You smiled to yourself as you watched it, reminded of another difference between this beautiful peaceful dream and reality.

He might look like him, sort of, but at the end of the day Eren wasn’t Mr. Kruger at all.

Mr. Kruger had no idea how to cook.

“I made you a cake, obviously.” You tell Mr. Kruger in answer to his question, as you begin to rebandage his head.

“What kind of cake?” He asks.

“Hmm… strawberry.”

He grimaces.

“Chocolate?”

He shrugs.

You stop bandaging. “You like vanilla?”

“I don’t like flavors that are too strong.”

You scoff.

“Hey,” he protests, “it’s my birthday.”

You smile as you continue to bandage his head. “Alright fine, I made vanilla then,” as you expertly wrap and tuck the bandages, you continue to ramble about the made-up birthday party you would throw him in your head. Describing it in vivid detail, as if it was real. 

As if it was in front of you instead of the palace in your head.

You imagine Mr. Kruger’s hand brushing against the back of yours as you hand him a slice of cake.

But you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.

“I would wear… a blue dress. Oh! And one of those big floppy hats to keep the sun out of my face!”

You’re helping him across the courtyard. He’s sore from an intense session of physical therapy and needs more than just his crutch to get around.

Mr. Kruger grunts as you lower him to his favourite bench where he said he was meeting his friend. 

“Do you sunburn easily?” He asks.

“Yes. All the time.”

He lets out a short huff of amusement as his eyes trail your face. “I bet you skip tan and go right to red.”

Your cheeks burn as he says it.

In your head, you’re potting hanging baskets of pretty red flowers on the balcony. In your head, it’s not just his eyes that trail your cheeks. In your head, his hand reaches up to brush against them too.

Again, you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.

“Chamomile.” Mr. Kruger says softly as you hand him his paper cup and his three pills. You already slipped the green one into your pocket.

You blink away the tears that have started to well up in your eyes.

“That’s the kind of tea I’d bring you.” Mr. Kruger says. “It’s relaxing.”

You always get this way on the anniversary of his death. You weren’t supposed to be sad though. He was a traitor, so you were supposed to be happy he was dead.

But you weren’t.

You take in a shaky breath. “Would you… Would you sit with me while I drink it?”

“Yes.” Mr. Kruger takes his medicine.

You imagine the couch. The tea.

You imagine letting your head fall to his shoulder and your eyes slipping closed as Mr. Kruger describes the chipped cup he’d hand you, and the cat that would be asleep in your lap.

Once you were finished with your tea, he’d take the empty cup from you. He’d place it on the table and then wrap his arm around you so you could tuck yourself against his chest. He would rub your back as you cried. As he let you cry. 

When you were done, he’d kiss the top of your head while you drifted off to sleep.

Like usual, you don’t tell Mr. Kruger that last part.

The house grows more vivid. More detailed. More wonderful and into a more perfect escape with little pieces of you and little pieces of Mr. Kruger as well.

Paintings. Souvenirs. A collection of different mugs and teacups because you can’t help constantly buying new ones.

It becomes more than just your home.

It becomes his home too.

“What would you do?” Mr. Kruger asks. 

It was well into the evening and several hours past the end of your shift. You should have gone home ages ago, but instead, you were sitting in his hospital bed next to him- so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder.

But you weren’t touching.

Never touching.

The few centimetres between the two of you are as close as you’ll be able to get in reality.

Thankfully, you’re not in reality right now. Instead, you’re swept up in the fantasy of your small, safe home. You're somewhere that’s nice. 

“I would read a book on the couch,” you answer. “What would you do?”

“Sit next to you,” he says. “The cats won't leave me alone.”

You laugh. “It’s because you ignore them. Cats like that, you know. They like it when you play hard to get.”

“Maybe I should play harder.” 

“It’ll only make them like you more.”

The corners of his lips just barely lift into a smile, but they drop again a moment later.

A silence passes over you as you sink into the moment. You’re staring at the wall across from you, but the hospital room isn’t what surrounds you.

Not really.

What surrounds you is framed photos. Plants. A warm couch and the smell of a homemade dinner wafting in from the kitchen. There are people in the streets below. People at peace, because there isn’t any war here. No pain. No suffering at all.

There are only things that are nice.

Nothing else is allowed.

It’s just you and Mr. Kruger.

You lean against him.

But you don’t-...

You take a short breath.

You’re normally confident when you talk to Mr. Kruger about the nice place in your head, but right now that confidence is fading. It’s fading because you can imagine doing it, but you’ve never let those thoughts be known like you let all the others. But what if you did? Just this once. What if you…

“I’d move closer to you...” you tell him, just above a whisper, “...so our arms could touch.”

You can imagine it so perfectly. The brush of his arm against yours. If you leaned over, even just slightly, you’d feel it. But that’s reality.

You’re not in reality right now. You’re somewhere nice.

You take a short breath: “And I’d-”

“I’d hold your hand.” Mr. Kruger cuts you off, “...I bet it’s soft.”

Your fingers twitch against your lap. They curl together and you imagine the sensation of his hand replacing one of yours. 

“I-...” you stutter, “...yours is too…”

It’s warm. 

Not just his hand, but everything else. The house. The couch. The life. The people on the street below you. The cat in your lap. Mr. Kruger sitting beside you.

It’s warm. It’s soft. It’s comfortable. It’s perfect. The most wonderful escape. The most amazing dream. You wish it was real, you do, but at the same time you hope somewhere like that never slips into reality because you know if it did it would become tainted. 

Reality is thick ropes. Flesh. Bone. Red words against brick walls. Reality takes the tiniest spark of something pure, of something good, and turns it into a nightmare.

Somewhere nice couldn’t possibly be real. That warm, soft, comfortable, perfect place would be ruined if it was.

So you don’t want it to be real. Not at all. You never want it to be real. If it was real it wouldn’t be perfect.

If it was real, you could never-

“...I’d kiss you...”

You can see it, so vividly, just like the couch and the food and the chipped tea cups.

You see Mr. Kruger right next to you. Holding your hand. You see yourself pull back, just enough that you can meet his blue-green eyes. Your own eyes flick down, just for one second, to his lips, and when you glance up he looks different.

His bandages are gone and he’s got both eyes and legs. His long hair is tied up instead of hanging down. His skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes. He’s the same. He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…

He’s smiling.

He’s smiling and laughing and talking to you so much faster and louder than he normally does he’s--

He’s alive.

And there’s a difference, you suddenly realize, a difference between living and being alive.

Without a second thought, you lean forward.

You kiss him, cutting off whatever he had been rambling about in favour of sinking into the feeling of his warm lips against yours.

Warm.

Just like the rest of the wonderful dream.

You’d spent the last few weeks describing a lot of your fantasies to Mr. Kruger, but there were still things you kept to yourself. Stolen glances. Soft touches. Feelings that you couldn’t admit to, not even in the fantasy.

But then you’d gone and said it:

‘I’d kiss you.’ You had told him, only a fraction of a second ago without taking a moment to think it over. 

And you aren’t given a moment, not really, because the image of it happening flashes through your mind so quickly, and in that time, Mr. Kruger makes his reply.

He takes in a short breath. His body completely motionless next to you.

He’s looking out the window.

“...I’d kiss you too…” he says, his eyes never leaving the line of the horizon.

He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and kisses you back, pulling you against him on the couch.

The scratchy couch.

The warm world.

The perfect fantasy where you’ll never live - but for once in your life you can be alive.

You stare at the blank, depressing hospital wall.

You should go home.

TAG LIST - [like this post to be added]

@azulaenthusiast @ilovemollyweasley @kooromin

@janneeeexdxc @dumdxm @ebubeu

@merrygo14 @gojojang @maluvilela

@shmaptainbonky @fvckingeetar @hyunsbaby

@vlsquuu @f4irygard3n

@xngelsau @venus1224idkpleaze @dahliawarner

@huni7857 @dracucil @misshale21

@magictrump @longestline @sky-full-of-magic

@suagxsugax @dattebakay @br0ken-g1rl

@datshittuebrat @hayleighloatx @skoll1897

((I'm getting a bit of burnout with this fic, and some comments on your thoughts so far would go a long way in terms of igniting that spark. So please let me know what you think so far <3 thank you guys for reading!!))

[ghcstao3]

hi again, hope school isn't being too hard on you :( I figured I'd send a few ideas in & you can answer whenever!

IT'S COLD! so how about the 141 during the summer, doing some of your favorite activities! Or maybe a teeny ramble about what each likes doing the most...?

if it's not triggering...SoapGhost in uni. The class they share is for 1 of their majors & the other's minor (or maybe just for extra credits). The extra credit assignment involves taking a day trip somewhere & they're the only 2 who go.

Soap's 2nd job happens to be helping out his local unicorn community, who have all but gone extinct. He comes across the fabled Simon Riley, the Ghost of Soap's hometown, as the poor guy wanders around after being held captive by fey for decades.

school’s just been busy more than anything thankfully!! it’s a lot of work but certainly not too difficult:)

and ahh it was hard to choose from one of these i might have to return to the others. but honestly writing about them in uni is like therapy

-

Simon and John meet in an upper level English literature course.

Well—Simon never really had much say in the matter, not when John had plopped himself down in the seat beside him on the first day even in spite of all the other empty desks in the small classroom. Apparently it’s what John’s heart had desired, and never having been one for unnecessary confrontation, Simon never says anything of it.

He could never really pinpoint when their friendship began, maybe forged through general interest in the topic and whispered comments and jokes about some of the contents during lectures, or maybe through necessity when they’re not familiar with many others in the class, but either way—John ends up becoming one of the better friends Simon’s made in all his years of university.

The thing is, though, with majors that don’t overlap in the slightest—be it Simon’s English major and John’s own in chemistry—they don’t really see much of each other outside of class, unless it means working on a group project. Simon thinks—believes—they’d both like to be friends outside of the course, but… for whatever reason, they each have difficulty initiating anything.

Simon, personally, would like something more. But he doesn’t need it. Just wants John’s company regardless.

But they have their difficulties throughout the semester, that is, until their professor—a sweet old woman, who endures far too much from the few immature students in her class—announces that she had received funding from the department to take interested students to a professional production of Macbeth in a town an hour over. It’s without hesitation that Simon and John both agree to go.

But since it’s so close to finals season, they end up being the only two to go through with attending.

Not that Simon’s complaining—it just means more time spent with John alone. Sort of.

And not to mention he gets to see how nicely John cleans up for the event.

“I’m so glad you boys still came,” their professor says in greeting. “I was afraid no one wanted to go anymore.”

John smiles that stupidly charming smile at her, and Simon’s really beginning to feel the extent of his growing crush on his friend.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

“Oh, thank you, John.” She glances between them both, some knowing expression appearing briefly on her face before she ushers them inside the theatre. She hands them their tickets, tells them to go ahead, she has some friends from the local university she wants to meet with before the performance starts.

As they settle into their seats, John leans into Simon’s space—closer than he could ever manage at a desk. Simon hopes the theatre’s dark enough that John can’t see the way his ears burn red.

“Warning you now,” John whispers. “I know fuck all about Shakespeare language, so you’re gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

Simon huffs, trying to dispel some of the heat of his blush. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention in class, then, Johnny.”

John laughs, knocking his shoulder against Simon’s. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been telling me so many jokes during lectures, Mr. English major.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother retaliating. Instead they fall into meaningless conversation until the play begins, quieting only slightly when their professor arrives and sits on the other side of Simon.

The lights dim in the audience, and the performance starts. Simon watches with rapt attention, but true to his word, John asks him far too many questions.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though, when he can feel John’s knee press against his all the while.

John rambles when it’s over, and despite the interrogation, he seemed to understand and enjoy it as much as Simon and their professor had. Simon’s more than content to listen as their professor bids them goodnight, and they both head to the train station while she heads to her car.

Simon isn’t sure what it is that causes it—but the entire ride back, John seems to encroach in his space more than usual, stuck to Simon like glue. Simon does notice his eyes drooping and his head nodding off every once in a while, so he has the excuse of writing it off as exhaustion.

Particularly when John is resting his head on Simon’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna walk back to my flat,” John laments once they’re climbing off at their stop. “Too far.”

It’s a fit of impulse that has Simon offering, “You could stay at mine? It’s only five minutes.”

And there’s no hesitation when John accepts with a weary grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Si,” John sighs. “Could kiss you right now.”

Simon freezes. John doesn’t notice as he ambles further away from the train platform.

“What’d you say?”

John pauses, and his brow furrows. He looks to Simon, simultaneously confused and entirely too casual. “Said I could kiss you,” he repeats. “Why? S’that a problem?”

Simon’s gaze falls to the ground as he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not—that’s not—“

“Would you like me to kiss you?” John pushes, peeking up at Simon through thick lashes. Simon knows he’d give in immediately, if he were looking into those sapphire-blue eyes.

“I mean—“ Simon shrugs a shoulder. His blush has returned in full force, from the nape of his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. “—I wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay,” John hums, like it’s nothing, before grabbing Simon’s face and doing exactly as promised.

It isn’t anything life changing, but it’s still—it’s still everything Simon could hope for, even here as a chill runs through him from the night’s cool temperature, even if their only sources of light are the moon and a flickering streetlamp.

John eventually pulls away first, delivering a hearty pat to Simon’s chest. “Now get me back to your flat and we can do that again, aye? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

Simon can’t help the smile that appears on his face. His face tingles a little less now, though he’s sure it’s still stained a deep pink. “Sure, Johnny.”

And if they hold hands the entire way back—Simon will just claim it was for warmth.